Chapter 3: "Yeah.. unfortunately. "

The streets of the city were always so dull. Nothing but bog-standard architecture, with looming buildings that so far away it gets parallax. The streets were boring, the buildings also boring, the cars boring, and the people who drove them were nothing but mundane regular citizens.

I never found the use of being outside. It was the same no matter how you tried to look at it. It was all pointless. This time again, however, something felt different. On my shoulder slung a standard bastard sword, that was provided by the cloud district, lucky that nobody saw it, they were after all too bothered to nearly care. The two of us walk, searching for our target.

"Hey, I just realized. I don't actually know your name?"

"Good, us grim reapers don't usually have names."

"But didn't that Madam lady, call you shinigami?"

"Well... she just does that to be cute, or whatever. Well if you are so hung up on this, naming thingy then just call me whatever you like."

"Alright, Shiori." We walk further into the boring city. "Hey Shi-"

"Wait!... " As if a switch was flipped, she started vigorously scanning the area, her eyes panicked. Then I see it. 

In the distance. It was grotesque, horrifying. Something that truly should not exist. It was a floating apple, yet the bottom was a viscose liquid that constantly dripped. It was blood red, with a piercing blue eye in the center of its macabre form. "You see this, boy. This is a fallen angel." Suddenly my thoughts were validated, seeing no choice I pulled out my vorpal blade, and began running towards it. Shiori rushed ahead of me, wielding her scythe. She smiled once more "You ready, boy?"

The two engaged in fierce combat, yet it was all too fast for me to see. The creature swung its barbed stalks towards us. I stagger to dodge, yet Shiori dodges with ease as if she were dancing around the creature, side-stepping any and all major attacks. Finally, scythe in hand and mere inches from the creature, she readies to deliver the final blow, a kill shot. Yet the creature spots her, swiftly swinging in response.

With Shiori knocked out, the only one left was me. The realization dawns on me, Shiori the only one who knows anything about fallen angels and how to fight them, passed out on the ground. What can a nobody like me can accomplish? Should I run? Should I fight? No, if I fight, I'll die, won't I? I am reminded of something, a nasty, bad habit. When things get troubling or scary, I put on music. Alright, I've got it. I'll fight, I'll stay. I pull out the chunky headphones, still shoved into my jacket pocket.

It's time, it's time to kill this fallen angel. The music helped, feeling the smooth melodies subdued my mind. I rush to the angel, trying my best to avoid every blow. I jump, dodge, roll. The creature keeps swinging, yet I find an opening. I weasel my way in between its thorny stalk. Sword in hand, I plunge. The sword breached the creature's blood skin. Shrivingling in pain it swings me back, pushing me to the side. Yet it still lives, only problem: the creature still lives.

It slowly dawns on me. Reaching it's thorny, barbed stalk towards me. I close my eyes. I can't move. This is it. Game over. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. At least, at least I had music by my side. Music that all made my woes dissipate into nothingness. One of my favorite songs is coming up, a fitting ending for my death. The song was synth-heavy, the soundscape being roughened and raw synths, layered by the rapper's roughened and unfiltered delivery.

I hear the synths. Wait. No, something is happening. As if thunderstruck my corpse, I rose once more. Hell yeah, I felt power coursing through my veins, it's the synths. The synths bleed, becoming my blood, my power, my drive. I look at the creature, seeing its horrified look, eyes -er, eye widened. 

"Listen here! I run the show. Alright!"

I felt nothing but pure ecstasy, the synths gave me an abundance of energy. Before the blink of an eye, I stood face to face with that creature. I was ripping the blade from its tendered skin. I unleashed a flurry of slashes, the ruby-red liquid kept dripping. It was dense, sticky, and worst of all: it was everywhere. I felt nothing but pure power, pure elation, pure energy. The monster lay dead, its eyes no longer gazing.

I look around, suddenly noticing the tiny particles, the tiny particles that come in copious amounts, it was everywhere. Like tiny, minute dots that spread across the land. Yet before I could reach out towards it, I felt a searing pain spread from my body. A stabbing ache spread from my eyes spreading, spreading to my body. I crash to the ground, the impact causing my headphones to fall off. I closed my eyes, I felt tired. It was cold, feeling my consciousness slowly fade, fading. 

"Nicola?" I heard a voice, it felt distant. Faint to my ears. "Nicola-" There it was again. I guess, I can never really sleep. I open my eyes, being met with the annoying visuals of light, and brightness. However, there too was a certain flamboyant figure. "Oh, you're still awake. "

"Yeah... unfortunately."

"So... anyway, what are you doing here." He points a painted nail towards Shiori. "And who's she? Your girlfriend or something?" He thought for a moment. "No, it can't be. Say it ain't so!" He starts shaking me fervently 

"it... it ain't so! Augh! Ain't so!" He stops shaking, pulling me up. "Something weird is happening. Something about fallen angels, I think?"

"Ah, I see... So, are you like fighting them?" He says, pointing at the sword that lies comfortably on the ground

"Like I said, I'm real sorry for this." Shiori once again preps her scythe, From nowhere. Shiori explained to me, that the only way to get to the cloud district. Is to be slain by a reaper's scythe. "Oh, and you're coming with. " Yet before Shiori could even swing, Akira chimes in. And suddenly we find ourselves at- 

"Hmph! Why are we at a cafe!" Shiori was amusingly annoyed, her foot incessantly and rhythmically tapping. However, Akira remained unamused, casually sipping on his tea as if it were nothing more than a regular Monday or Tuesday. Akira takes one graceful sip, the tea pouring laminarly down his soft lips. 

"Now, I have a question to ask." His voice was calm and soothing, akin to the tea he drank. Yet as calm as he was, he forcefully slamned a partially cracked crimson dagger into the table. To the others in the cafe, they remained blissfully unaware, that the kindes man had suddenly pulled a knife from nowhere, as if it was invisible. This is a joke, right? Where would someone like him even get something like that, why? And how? I turned over to Shiori, her gaze was piercing, seething. 

"How does someone like you own a Devil weapon?" She muttered through clenched teeth and tensed eyes.