SEASON2, EP8(EP15): I'am Saravia!

Daytona hadn't slept well the night before. The dream with Belphegor had left her restless, as if a heavy warning had been pressing against the back of her neck ever since. The sky over Los Angeles looked too gray for a normal morning — low clouds, cold wind, half-empty streets. Even so, Martin and Huracán insisted: it was time to return to the Gothic Church.

They stood together at the iron gate, which creaked as Martin pushed it open. The church façade looked bigger than Daytona remembered — its stained glass windows were partially shattered, and a damp breeze seeped from within. Inside, the scent of dust and burnt candles was strong enough to sting the throat.

Huracán spoke first, his voice slightly shaky, trying to break the heavy silence.

— "Are we sure coming back here is a good idea?" he asked, running his hand along the damp walls, reading faded graffiti of corrupted prayers.

— "It's not a good idea," Daytona replied firmly, without stopping. "But we need to understand. All of this…" She gestured vaguely at the walls. "It's connected to us."

Belzebub, silent since breakfast, whispered in her mind. "Pay attention to the symbols, Daytona. They tell secrets about what came before me — and what may come after."

Daytona swallowed hard. Martin looked at the broken pews, brushing his fingers over the burn marks on the stone floor. They walked slowly toward the altar — or what was left of it. At the top, a crooked metal cross hung, covered in Latin inscriptions lost among moss.

Huracán pointed to a part of the wall, where someone had scribbled names Daytona had never seen before: Asmodeus. Leviathan. Lucifer. Mammon.

— "The Seven…" Daytona murmured. "That's it, isn't it? Each name, each sin."

A chill ran down her spine. Belzebub, almost bored, let out a laugh inside her mind. "You think you know, but you know nothing. This church used to be a portal, Daytona. A poorly sealed one."

Martin snapped his fingers to get their attention — he was pointing to a side staircase that led down to the crypt. Daytona took a deep breath. Their footsteps echoed among broken tombs, half-melted candles, and symbols that blended crosses with demonic eye markings.

Down below, the silence was suffocating. They stood for nearly ten minutes in front of an old mural — an angel tearing the flesh from a demon, but the angel's face was destroyed. In its place, someone had painted another symbol: a circle surrounded by a serpent biting its own tail.

Huracán placed his ear to the wall. From there, they heard a faint sound, almost like breathing — but when they tried to follow it, there was nothing. Just stones and darkness.

Returning outside felt like surfacing from underwater. The cold wind hit all three as they reopened the gate. Daytona was pale, but her eyes burned in a way even she didn't recognize.

Trying to ease the mood, Martin forced a laugh:

— "Next stop, burger joint?" he joked, but the words dropped like a stone.

Daytona looked around. Something was wrong. She felt it before she saw it. A step behind, Huracán stopped too.

After a moment, they decided to leave — but when they opened the door, a girl stood there.

Her dark hair fell in waves down to her mid-back. She wore ordinary clothes, but strapped to her back was something massive — an anchor made of Titanium and Tungsten, covered in nearly faded runes, tied as if it were a sword.

The girl looked ordinary, with deep, calm brown eyes. A small, almost lazy smile formed on her lips. She raised one hand in a slow greeting.

— "Hallara Daytona, right?" she said, her voice soft, yet firm as stone. "What are you doing around here, hmm?"

Martin opened his mouth to speak, but Daytona raised an arm in front of him. Her heart beat fast — not from fear, but from a strange familiarity, like she already knew who this was.

Belzebub, for the first time in a long while, fell completely silent.

The girl stepped forward, the anchor creaking slightly on her back.

— "My name is Saravia," she said, the smile fading into a serious expression. "I've heard about you through whispers… especially about who you are and what you carry."

Daytona clenched her fists. And for a moment, the wind stopped.

The air around them froze between breaths. Daytona, Martin, and Huracán stood still for a second that felt like an hour. Saravia, standing before them, held the anchor in one hand as if it were weightless.

— "What do you mean by that?" Daytona was the first to break the silence, her voice steady, but eyes wary.

Saravia tilted her head slightly, studying Daytona from head to toe. The wind lifted loose strands of her wavy hair.

— "I know who lives inside you." She pointed — a calm, almost respectful gesture. "The God of Gluttony. One of the Seven. And you…" She clicked her tongue, glancing at Martin and Huracán, as if assessing the whole trio. "You haven't inherited all the power yet."

Martin stepped forward, trying to place himself between Daytona and Saravia.

— "Who even are you?" he asked in a low voice. "Why were you following us?"

Saravia looked at him seriously, but without hostility.

— "Saravia. That's the only name that matters." She turned the anchor slightly, the tip scraping against the asphalt. "I carry Leviathan. Just like she carries Belzebub."

Huracán cleared his throat, trying to process it.

— "You too…?" He looked at Daytona, then back at Saravia. "You're also… possessed?"

Saravia laughed, though it sounded more like a sigh.

— "I'm not possessed. I'm a host. He lives inside me, but he doesn't control me — same as Daytona. I let him exist because he's useful," she said, tapping her chest lightly.

Daytona exchanged a quick glance with Martin. In her mind, Belzebub sighed — his voice sounded different this time, almost… annoyed.

"Leviathan was always a drama queen. And this girl's even worse."

Daytona crossed her arms, ignoring Belzebub for a moment.

— "So what do you want from me?" she asked directly. "You want to fight? Kill me?"

Saravia shook her head slowly, a small smile returning.

— "No. I want the opposite. I want you to survive. But more than that: I want you to help me destroy them all." Her tone was calm, but her words cut like blades. "All the Demons and Angels."

Daytona felt her chest tighten. She glanced at Martin, who stared wide-eyed, speechless. Huracán scratched his neck, stepping back to take it in.

— "You want to destroy Setealem?" Daytona asked, her voice a little hoarse.

Saravia nodded firmly.

— "I want to burn it all. That's why I'm here. That's why I waited for you to leave that church." She stepped closer, less than two meters from Daytona. "You have courage. You're hungry, Daytona. But you're still too… human. And I need you to stop being that — even if just a little."

Belzebub whispered like a snake in her mind:

"Don't trust her, Daytona. She smells like a martyr. Be careful."

But Daytona didn't answer mentally. She just stared into Saravia's eyes, feeling something strange — not anger, not fear. A strange sensation of seeing herself reflected in someone else… but distorted.

Martin cleared his throat, trying to lighten the tension.

— "So… you just showed up to say that? Gonna walk away now?"

Saravia let out a light chuckle.

— "No. I'm sticking around. You're going to need me." She pointed the anchor at Daytona like a promise. "Next time you open a portal, let me know. You're going to need a sword bigger than that courage of yours."

Daytona opened her mouth to reply, but paused. The wind picked up again — dry leaves spiraled around them. For a moment, she imagined Saravia would vanish like smoke, but no: she was real. Solid. Impossible to ignore.

Huracán patted Daytona's shoulder, speaking softly:

— "What do we do now?"

Daytona didn't answer right away. She blinked slowly, looking at the gray sky, where a faint yellow light began to break through the clouds.

Then she took a deep breath.

— "Now…" she said, eyes fixed on Saravia. "Now we really begin."

Belzebub let out a satisfied laugh in her head.

Saravia smiled back, and for the first time, her dark brown eyes gleamed like blades in twilight.

And so, as the wind carried dust down the street, the three — Daytona, Martin, Huracán — stood still, staring at the girl with the anchor. In that moment, in the silent space between an ending and a new beginning…

The war against Setealem began to take a new form.

END OF SEASON 2, SEASON 3 PREMIERES AUGUST 24