Before the Storm

"If I'm a divine mistake… then I'll be the most badass mistake ever written into the stars." – Kaito

Hidden Rebel Sanctuary – Outer Rims, Twilight

Somewhere between the last bloodbath and the next existential meltdown, I found the roof.

It was flat, cold, and mostly illegal to sit on—three things that made it perfect for someone like me.

The rebel sanctuary was buried deep in the outer rims of the celestial-ravaged territories, surrounded by fractured ley lines, burned forests, and distant screams of things too cursed to name. But up here?

Quiet.

I leaned back against the cracked chimney, sword lying beside me like a sleeping dragon. The sky above was stained deep crimson from the last sun, trailing behind the clouds like blood on silk.

And for once, I wasn't running, yelling, bleeding, or saving someone.

I was just… sitting.

"Brooding again?"

Her voice floated down like moonlight—sweet and low, tinged with gentle sarcasm.

I didn't even turn.

"Don't you have god-things to do? Like smiting? Or floating ominously?"

Lysaria stepped beside me, her feet making no sound on the metal. She wore her cloak tonight—white, lightly embroidered with shimmering sigil threads that pulsed like veins of starlight.

"I needed air," she said, settling down beside me. "And your aura was leaking melancholy."

"Guess I forgot to turn that off."

We sat in silence, the wind brushing our hair. She didn't ask questions, and I didn't explain. That's how we worked lately.

Finally, I cracked.

"You ever wonder what you were before you were you?"

She blinked. "Existential crisis hour already?"

I sighed. "I keep getting these flashes. A battlefield. A throne. Chains. Sometimes I see you crying. And I'm there—but not really me."

She looked away.

"You were someone else before this life," she said quietly. "So was I. So was Vermund."

"Don't drop lore bombs on me like that without snacks," I muttered.

She chuckled.

Later, the inner compound was buzzing with talk. Eve was coordinating intel. Rias was sharpening his ridiculous axe. The demigod twins were arm-wrestling using gravity runes. And me?

I had commandeered a rusted oil barrel, filled it with blue flame dust, and made a makeshift fire pit.

"Soup's almost done," I said, stirring a dented pot with a wrench.

"You're cooking?" Eve raised an eyebrow as she approached.

"No. I'm creating survival cuisine."

"It smells like betrayal."

"That's the spice blend."

She tossed a folder onto the crate beside me. "New intel. Thought you'd want a peek."

I opened it, still stirring.

Celestial troop movements. Archive sector guards. Seals being relocated.

"Looks like someone's hiding something," I muttered.

Eve nodded. "Lysaria thinks your sigil records are stored there. The original ones."

"And if I read them?"

"She thinks they'll explain why your power keeps evolving."

"And you think I'll explode."

"Fifty-fifty."

I grinned. "I like those odds."

After the fire fizzled out and Eve wandered off muttering about sleep, I found myself in the garage, staring at my bike.

The Yamaha R6.

Black on black. Ethereal runes now embedded in the frame. The engine purred like a demon's lullaby.

"You ever feel like we're just props in someone's cutscene?" I asked her, brushing dust from the handlebars. "That no matter how fast we ride, the plot catches up?"

She didn't answer, of course.

But she gleamed under the moonlight, like a beast waiting to run.

"I think I love you," I said.

A voice behind me coughed.

I turned to see Lysaria leaning against the garage wall, arms crossed.

"…I was talking to the bike."

"Of course you were."

She walked over and looked at the runes. "These were added recently."

"I asked Eve. She said they're resistance-grade stealth enchantments."

"Useful," Lysaria said. "You planning another midnight joyride?"

"Only if you're riding pillion."

She gave me a look.

"Not like that," I added quickly. "Though... you know, if we survive the war…"

She shook her head, but I swore I saw her smile.

That night, back in the inner quarters, we were seated in the war room.

Eve stood by the crystal display, mapping a complex sigil of interlinked gates.

"Three days from now," she said, "we send a probe team into the lower district of the Celestial Tower. We need someone fast, quiet, and aura-masked."

Rias looked at me.

I was mid-yawn.

"What?"

"You're the only one with divine immunity," Eve said. "Your sigil allows you to walk through basic detection layers."

"And the downside?" I asked.

"You'll be alone."

I shrugged. "Been alone most of my life."

"No," Lysaria said sharply. "You won't be."

Everyone turned to her.

She looked at me.

"I'll go with you."

Later, when the others had gone to rest or argue about the mission, I sat alone again—this time on my bunk, staring at the ceiling.

I heard her approach before she entered.

"You're really coming with me?" I asked.

Lysaria nodded. "You shouldn't face that place alone."

"Because it's dangerous?"

"Because it remembers things even I've forgotten."

I sat up. "So this archive… it holds more than just documents, doesn't it?"

She hesitated.

"It holds… truths. Sealed ones. About you. About Vermund. About the original war."

"And you?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she sat beside me, pulling her knees to her chest.

"Kaito... if things go wrong, and I become someone else... promise me you'll stop me."

I frowned. "You're not some monster waiting to snap."

"You don't know that."

"I know you."

She looked at me, eyes glimmering faintly.

And then she whispered:

"I don't want to lose you."

Later still, I lay awake on the cot, listening to the storm build outside.

Something was shifting in the wind.

A pressure. A whisper in my sigil.

Change was coming.

Not the good kind.

I turned my head, saw Lysaria asleep in the chair across the room, scroll still in her hand.

I thought about all of it.

The sigils. The powers. The broken gods. The rebel war.

And this woman—this goddess—who'd accidentally landed in my life like a meteor wrapped in mystery and moonlight.

And somehow, I felt it in my bones.

The next battle wouldn't just be physical.

It would be truth.

And truth... has always been the sharpest blade.