The courtyard was full.

  Not with noise.

  With normality.

  Students crossing with backpacks. Laughter that didn’t matter. Conversations unaware they were walking between decisions that could turn into wars.

  Issei had chosen the location for that exact reason.

  If something went wrong, there would be no excuses.

  Xenovia stood straight, hands behind her back. No visible sword. Irina beside her, trying to appear relaxed—and failing every time someone walked too close.

  In front of them stood Issei, Koneko, Kiba…

  and Saji.

  Saji was rigid.

  Not like Kiba—who was controlled tension—but like someone who had already calculated how many different ways he could die just by being there.

  “I’ll repeat it,” Issei said quietly. “This isn’t an alliance. It’s situational cooperation.”

  “‘Cooperation’ with devils is still a dangerous word,” Xenovia replied flatly. “But the Vatican authorized this. Nothing more.”

  Saji swallowed.

  “Does ‘this’ include my Kaichou executing me when she finds out?” he asked seriously. “Because I need to understand the margin of error.”

  Irina looked at him with sincere guilt.

  “We promise to… minimize collateral damage.”

  “That does not reassure me,” Saji muttered.

  Koneko spoke without emotion.

  “If Sona finds out, there won’t be collateral damage. Only direct damage.”

  Saji closed his eyes for a second.

  “Fantastic. Love that for me.”

  Kiba said nothing. He stared ahead, neutral expression, like every word spoken was just paperwork before something inevitable.

  Xenovia watched him briefly before turning back to Issei.

  “Freed is dead. His Excalibur did not disappear. It’s under demonic custody in Kuoh. That makes this city a critical point.”

  “We know,” Issei replied. “That’s why we want to destroy them before Kokabiel uses them as a detonator.”

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  “And before the Church loses narrative control,” Irina added quietly.

  Saji raised a hand, tense.

  “Logistical question. Does ‘narrative control’ include denying we were ever part of this if it goes wrong?”

  Xenovia didn’t answer immediately.

  That silence was enough.

  “Yes,” Irina said at last, honest. “It includes that.”

  Saji let out a nervous laugh.

  “Perfect. Disposable devils and saints with plausible deniability. What a solid strategy.”

  Issei shot him a look.

  “Saji.”

  “No, no,” he said quickly. “I’m in. I just want it clearly stated that if we die, nobody’s building us a statue.”

  Xenovia nodded once, as if she respected the clarity.

  “There will be no statues,” she said. “Only results.”

  Kiba spoke for the first time.

  “Then hurry.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “Kokabiel doesn’t wait for permission,” he continued. “If the Excaliburs keep existing, someone will use them. And I’m not going to watch that happen again.”

  There was no rage in his voice.

  Just resolution.

  Irina lowered her gaze.

  “The Vatican gave limited clearance,” she said. “Not to remain in Kuoh. Not yet. Only to operate… and withdraw.”

  Saji frowned.

  “‘Not remain’?”

  Xenovia confirmed.

  “Our presence here is temporary. If everything goes well, we leave before this escalates.”

  That detail lingered in the air.

  Because everyone knew it wouldn’t go well.

  “Then that’s the plan,” Issei concluded. “We handle terrain. You confirm targets and authorize destruction. No showboating. No heroes.”

  Xenovia nodded.

  “And if things get out of control…”

  “We run,” Saji said immediately. “At least I do.”

  Koneko looked at him.

  “No.”

  Saji sighed.

  “Worth a try.”

  Kiba was already walking away.

  “Don’t waste time,” he said without looking back. “This already started.”

  Xenovia followed him with her eyes, calculating something she didn’t say.

  Irina took a slow breath.

  “Be careful,” she murmured. “Seriously.”

  Then they left.

  The courtyard filled again with human noise.

  Saji dropped against a wall.

  “Okay,” he said. “Officially the worst plan of my life.”

  Issei smiled, tight.

  “But it’s for a friend.”

  Saji looked at him.

  “It always is, right?”

  Koneko looked up at the sky.

  Clear.

  Too clear.

  And though none of them said it out loud, they all felt the same thing:

  The plan was correct.

  The intention was just.

  But someone—still unnamed—

  was going to pay the full price.

  From a distance, Kaelan saw it before Tatsu finished his sentence.

  He didn’t have to search.

  The Resonance pulled, and his eyes followed the thread.

  Kiba.

  Back rigid. Face closed in the way of someone who has already made a decision and is simply waiting for the moment to execute it.

  Xenovia a meter away. Irina. Issei.

  Kaelan knew this scene.

  Not because he had lived it.

  Because he had seen it coming since Chapter 5. Since the bridge. Since the laboratory that didn’t exist yet in the present—but already existed in his head like an image burned into metal.

  Kiba on his knees.

  The sword shaking.

  Light piercing his side.

  The Resonance pulled again. Harder.

  Get closer. Watch. Do something.

  Kaelan didn’t move.

  Not because he couldn’t.

  Because he knew exactly what would happen if he did:

  He would have to choose.

  Not today. Not in this moment.

  But he would have to stop pretending this was a story happening to other people while he observed from the outside.

  And he wasn’t ready for that.

  Tatsu said something. Hiroshi laughed.

  Kaelan let the sound cover him like water.

  Kiba walked away without looking back.

  And Kaelan watched him go with the cold certainty of someone who knows how much time is left on a burning fuse.

  “Something wrong?” Tatsu asked.

  Kaelan shook his head.

  “No. Nothing.”

  He lied.

  What he felt wasn’t noise.

  It wasn’t premonition.

  It was the difference between not knowing— and choosing not to act.

  And once he had crossed that difference,

  it couldn’t be uncrossed.