The town’s landscape unfolded around Mathew in an anxious way.

All at once, blinding and deafening.

He thought to have seen someone who's back looked like that young woman from the video.

He even imagined seeing her being stumbled by a truck, but when Mathew turned once more to see if he was able to look at her face, she wasn’t there.

And now, on top of barely sleeping and only thinking of that murderous little thing, his mind was already playing tricks on him.

Or that was what Jeremy’s son was thinking to himself, when he kinda stumbled quite badly into a homeless person.

“I’m sorry.” Mathew started, turning around to check if the old man was fine.

But before he could say a word, the old man grabbed his wrist, as if he was in a hurry.

With eyes wide open and almost thirsty, although the old man seemed completely blind, he got closer and closer to Mathew’s face.

Uncomfortably close...

“You look for something, boy... Why are you so lost and... Desperate?” The homeless old man asked, in a much deeper and wiser tone than just a regular beggar.

Mathew flinched unconsciously, expecting a mugging or a crazy, alcohol stinking old geezer trying to warn him about the end of times.

However, what greeted him was no homeless stench, and it didn’t mean that the old man had showered not too long ago.

The old man smelled like roses, warm ground after some rain, freshly picked apples, and something he couldn’t quite perceive.

It smelled like...

Is this old weirdo smelling like breastfed baby?

Wait, how the fuck do i know what it smells like?

These thoughts assaulted Mathew one after the other, making him feel dizzy.

The world spun strangely around him, while beautiful images exploded right into his retinas, as if watching a very vivid movie projected from nowhere at all.

Fields full of roses in bloom, winged humanoids singing songs in glory of something.

There were also prairies bursting with wildlife, with all kinds of predators and prey getting along, as if the law of the jungle never mattered in the first place, and a vast myriad of other utopic things.

***

Meanwhile, the old man was staring deeply into Mathew’s eyes, with milky eyes that felt like seeing time in all its entirety.

“Interesting... I guess you’re the perfect fit for those eyes...”

***

When Mathew finally woke up from that strange trance, the old man was still staring at him, but this time, his eyes didn’t meet Mathew’s.

The old man’s eyes were darting from side to side, accompanied by a seriously sombre expression covering his face.

He seemed to be evaluating Mathew’s physique, like a coach analysing his team’s new rookie.

“Finally awake, my kid.” The old man’s voice sounded deep and wise at first, but it was probably Mathew’s sleepless mind playing tricks on him.

Because when he actually saw the beggar’s lips moving, he started hearing a soft old man’s voice, that weighed like the whole world.

No.

That weighed like the whole sky over Mathew’s shoulders.

“W-what... Are you...?” The question forcefully left Mathew’s lips, like worms coming out of their eggs.

The old man widened his eyes in surprise before the unexpected question, hardening his expression even more, while still coah-like analysing Mathew.

“You’re strong, even though your body is weak. I know what you seek, do you really want to find her?” The old man’s question sounded like a deep, passionate kiss. Hot, tempting its target to let go of everything, just to feel the embrace of the sweetest desire.

“Yes...” Mathew answered, his eyes a bit more focused, but his voice, slightly hollow and airy.

The beggar smiled from ear to ear, a strange smile.

If a person was to describe what kind of smile that was, they’d say it had something uncanny about it.

Like human, but not.

“Are you willing to make a deal for that?” the old man asked.

His smile, seeming to slowly widen. More and more.

***

Joshua left Nezariel with Bertrand and Purson at the restaurant’s back exit.

“What are they? I mean, those... Azazel’s bodyguards?” Bertrand asked, feeling a bit anxious after spending that time with one of Azazel’s most loyal servants so close to him.

They gave the impression of something close to babies, such was the purity they emanated.

Yet, their expressions were like blank pages. Completely emotionless, like an empty heart, if Bertrand would actually try to find a proper expression that suited their lack of emotion or expression.

Before the detective learned how to control his Grace, even Aamon, a lesser Earl, seemed scary. But after getting a hold as proper as possible of his newly found abilities...

He found those two bodyguards to be terrifying.

“The less you know or ask about them, the better for your life, kid.” Purson retorted with a shadowy expression.

His mind drifted back to when he heard Uriel’s voice, and it reminded him of a song he liked to hear when trying to mimic Becca’s recipes at home.

So close, no matter how far...

Only this time, the lyrics turned his mood way lower than usual.

Purson would recognize that voice anywhere, Heaven, Hell or Haled. And its memory would follow him to the end of times.

Which one is she this time...? His thoughts flew further and further, his legs taking him where he needed to take Bertrand and Nezariel, almost as if they were separate parts of the demon king, with a memory of their own.

Bertrand was about to warn him of a curb that drew nearer as they walked on, but his feet smoothly passed over it as if he was actually watching his way.

Which Bertrand knew just by looking at the demon king’s face, he wasn’t.

I’ll get revenge on them for you, I swear by the Haled.

Coincidentally after his deeply felt, silent vow, a thunder rumbled in the skies.

***

Uriel opened her eyes, a big yawn escaping from her soft lips.

A yawn so soft and lazy, it looked like she was waking up from a night of sleep at a summer camp.

What was on that meal? The thought fleeted through her head like an arrow, because she felt so rested and well healed, that it made no sense at all.

Whether she spent several days asleep, or the cook knew very well what kind of meal they needed to cook.

However, the line of thought changed drastically, when the archangel laid her hands on the table.

She wasn’t restrained anymore.

“You seem very well rested, Uriel.” The male voice from before she fell asleep spoke right beside her.

She looked at his direction, startled, and backed away from the blond man, almost falling backwards from the chair.

A demon! And a strong one!

Wait... Why am I thinking like this? The question made her feel uncomfortable.

Uriel never backed down from a challenge, even if it was hunting a demon king. And flinching from getting caught off guard, meant shame in all sorts of ways for a powerful archangel such as Uriel.

She recollected her thoughts, recomposed herself, and answered as nonchalantly as she could.

“Yes, I am very well rested.”

What is his name? Why are his eyes so shockingly blue?

Those questions didn’t seem to give her any idea of what kind of demon the blond man was. She only felt a distinct wicked energy that told her he was evil.

However, something was off about it.

He didn’t seem to seek conflict, like other demons would whenever encountering a heavenly being.

“I’m glad you healed properly, it’d be a pity to lose a powerful Exilus like that of yours.”

His sentence came like a punch hitting her stomach real hard. How did he know about her Exilus?

Wasn’t it impossible for any being other than angels, to notice the difference between avatars, shells, and exiluses?

The archangel tried to keep looking as undisturbed as ever, but what came next took away all the composure she was trying to rebuild.

“Why did our master send you, Uriel?”