Charles Archibald sat at his desk, typing along onto his computer. "Mission Report: Demon of Sloth" he titled it.

He spat out a sigh. Being a Paladin seemed fun when he was younger, but now he had to write reports.

It was boring moments like these that Archibald would dislike his choice to become a Paladin. He simply tolerated the work he hated. He continued to write, his elderly fingers clacking away at the keyboard.

"Belphegor repeatedly attempted to gain distance from both Gabriel Archibald and Alexander Lane, likely due to Gabriel's possession of Excalibur and Alexander's demonic lineage."

"In short, no major injuries were sustained by any of the Virtues, only resulting in minor wounds for each of them. All injuries in question were treated and healed. The seal on Alexander's magic energy was broken sometime in the battle, likely the moment he came into contact with Excalibur. Belphegor, Demon of Sloth, was defeated due to the combined efforts of Alexander Lane, Gabriel Archibald, Leonard Eldar, and Anastasia Velda."

It was at the same time that Alexander woke up. He immediately realized how he had passed out on the couch. He groaned as he sat up.

He grumbled to himself as he patted his chest, making sure that he had actually survived last night's battle. From the corner of his eye, he could see the table by his side to be riddled with paper notes. Those papers were of questions, remarks, and reminders for Alexander, left before his mom left for work.

He smiled as he took in a deep breath. 'Goddammit, why do I feel so great right now?' he thought, staring at his hands.

Alexander had almost died a few times the day before. Plus, he must've only slept a few hours after the battle, and after they met with Archibald.

Even so, his body felt giddy and brimming with energy.

He stood up, his vision suddenly blurring and shaking. Alexander stared at his hands until his vision returned and cleared.

'No, that has nothing to do with this,' he told himself. 'Just low blood pressure.'

He walked off to the bathroom where at himself in the mirror.

He thought back on Belphegor's first hit. The raw power that knocked him back dozens of meters. The strength that burned pain into every inch of his body. And somehow... He stood back up immediately. 'Back then... I definitely wasn't myself. And when I lifted that sword... I fought like it was second nature. I didn't feel anything. No fear or pain.'

He sighed. He was still wearing yesterday's clothing.

His shirt and hoodie were in shambles. Most of his clothes were stained in blood. Alexander sighed. "How the hell do I remove blood from clothes?" he said, taking off his shirt. He dragged his hand diagonally across his chest, the same way the demon's axe tore through his chest. "Thank God that didn't leave a scar, though," he mumbled.

Emilia stared at him in confusion. "Dude, just throw it out. It's torn."

"It's still cool, though. I'll keep it for remembrance. For the first- Well, the second time I fought a demon."

Alexander paused. "Wait, why are you awake? It's like 8 a.m."

"Dude, it's noon."

"It's noon?" he asked, his eyes widening.

Emilia nodded.

"Oh..." Alexander ran out of the bathroom towards his room.

"Where are you going?" Emilia asked, following him up the stairs.

"New York. I think. Not sure yet," he said, throwing on a shirt.

He reached into his school bag and pulled out a silver rectangle.

"What is that?" she asked.

"It's like a transporter. But it can only move to specific locations. Limited locations. Y'know?" he said, pressing buttons on the side and front.

"Archibald gave it to me," he clarified. "Just, uh, stay here. And don't burn anything."

"I don't burn things."

Alexander looked up from the transporter. "You burn bread. All the time."

"That's 'cause the toaster doesn't work."

"Toaster works fine," he muttered. "But still. Don't... Just don't do anything," he said. He pressed another button, before bursting into a flash of silver light.

Within that light, Alexander disappeared.

Emilia sighed. "Could've said bye, at least," she muttered.

- - - - -

Gabriel Archibald burrowed his head into his hands. He was sitting in front of his uncle as he let out a sigh.

"Uncle Charles, you... You told me only one person per generation could wield Excalibur. So then why... How-"

"I know what I said, Gabriel," Archibald said as he clearing his throat. "Alexander seems to be an anomaly in several aspects. Just try to cooperate with him in the future. Both of you could end up being Paladins one day, you know."

Gabriel sighed once again. "Sure. Sure. Of course, Uncle Charles." He stood up. "I should get going. You probably have work to do."

Archibald laughed. "Bit of an understatement," he said, pointing at the thick pile of paper on his desk. "It's rough. But whatever."

Gabriel stared at the dense pile. "You really have to do all that?"

"Well... Only because I procrastinated most of it for the past month. But yeah. All of that. And I still have a few more meetings," he groaned.

"Alright then. Good luck," Gabriel said, making his way through the door.

At the same time, Alexander made his way toward's Archibald's office. It was then when they came across each other.

Gabriel glared at Alexander.

"Alexander. Don't start thinking that you're powerful just because you killed Belphegor. You're still weak, technically. And I'll be the one to kill the next demon, by the way. Understand?"

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. What the hell did Gabriel even say just now?

"...Sure," Alexander responded, still confused at Gabriel's remarks.

They both walked off into separate directions, Alexander continuing towards Archibald's office.

'Wait, he called me Alexander, instead of "Demon-Born". Is that character development?' Alexander thought as the sound of Gabriel's footsteps began to fade away.

Alexander entered the office, noticing Archibald and the thick pile of papers on his desk. Archibald was still sitting on the couch to the side, his eyes fixated on the papers, groaning and grumbling to himself.

"You okay?"

Archibald perked up at Alexander's voice.

"Finally, someone's here," he mumbled.

"Morning, Alexander. Well, noon. Well... Afternoon. Congrats on killing Belphegor."

"...Thanks."

"It wasn't too difficult, was it?"

"Well, it... wasn't easy. It was just...Y'know?"

Archibald laughed, "Of course. So, Alexander," he said, finally standing up. "Do you know what caused you to black out yesterday?"

Alexander shook his head.

"Perfect. That's something I can answer," he said, walking towards his desk. He sat down, saying, "Don't worry about that stack of papers. It's unimportant. Well, important to me, but unimportant for now."

"So," he said, clapping his hands. "You're an anomaly, simply put."

"Because I'm a Demon-Born?"

Archibald laughed again. "I wish it were that simple. You're... complicated."

Archibald began to explain. How Alexander had a seal on his magic energy.

"So since the seal limited your magic energy, it could've had a bunch of different purposes. It could've been used to limit you and your power. Or maybe to keep you hidden, concealed from those who can sense magic energy."

"But more likely, it's the former," Archbald said. "After all, even with that limitation, you would stick out like a sore thumb in terms of magic energy."

That's how Alexander was noticed by the Norteon Union. That's how he was noticed by the first demon. And that's how he was noticed by the first curse.

Even so... Yesterday that seal had been broken.

From there, Archibald continued to explain. Everything.

- - - - -

Arnhild laid in her bed as she stared through her vast window, watching as golden glimmers of light began to stream over the grassy hills of Asgard.

She turned as she heard a light knocking at her door.

"Commander Arnhild. There's news," a boy said.

Arnhild sat up from her bed, asking, "Yes? What is it, Hector?"

The boy was pale-skinned with dark eyes and dark hair. He ruffled his curly black hair just before he spoke.

"Belphegor- Er, Sloth has been killed," the boy said. "The demon... The demon was killed by children. Virtues, they're called. Teenagers just like me. And yet they took down a Prince of Hell."

Arnhild smiled as she stood up. "Don't worry, Hector," she said, walking towards him. "Belphegor was the weakest of the sins; His death is of no importance to us. And we still have our trump card, provided by Lord Arnold. If anything, I'm... excited to see what they can be capable of."

"But, Commander, if they grow more powerful, then they may prove to be challenges for our objective."

Her smile widened. "Hector, you needn't be so formal with me. Besides... That's exciting, isn't it? A challenge brought to us by fate itself. When they fail, it will only further prove how the gods have blessed us and our plan."

She continued, "They are nothing more than obstacles placed by the gods to prove we are worthy of gaining what we want. And hardships... Hardships are always the pathway to peace."

"I... I see," Hector murmured. "I understand now, Commander."

Arnhild tilted her head in confusion. "Again, there's no need to be formal."

"Ah. I understand. Thank you, mother."

"Also..." she began to say. "In six months' time, we'll be the first to strike. Make sure you're ready by then."

Hector nodded. "Of course. I'll be ready."

Arnhild smiled. "Come. The sun is rising," she said, turning towards the golden glow. "Let's watch it together."

- - - - -

Archibald sat at his desk, typing on his computer with one hand, and signing papers with the other. At each one-minute interval, he would always let out a tired sigh.

There was a sudden tap at Archibald's door.

He looked up. "What's up, Eldritch?" he said, staring at his fellow Paladin standing at the door.

"Are you busy?" the masked man asked.

"Not at all," Archibald responded, tossing his pen at the wall.

"I have questions, so I was going to interrupt even if you were busy," he said.

"Fair enough." Archibald extended his hand to the side. The pen on the carpeted floor began to float, before finding its way back into Archibald's hand.

Eldritch let out a sigh as he sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Archibald's desk. His hands were still wrapped around his cane made of polished wood.

Along with the black mask of a plague doctor, Eldritch dressed deliberately not to disclose any skin on his body. Atop his head was a black hat. He wore white gloves on his hands, and a scarlet scarf around his neck. His cloak was dark, just as his trousers and shoes.

Archibald stared at Eldritch. "Why do you always wear that plague doctor mask?" he asked. "It can't be that comfortable, can it?"

Eldritch didn't respond. "Now then..." he said. "The boy killed this first demon, correct?"

Archibald smiled as he pushed up his circular glasses. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Even through Eldritch's mask, Archibald could feel the man glaring at him.

"I'm referring to Alexander Lane. I'm sure you're aware of that."

His voice was a bit muffled through the mask, but still held its deep timbre qualities, still sounding like that of a gruff old man.

"...Yes. He did. But he wielded Excalibur. He-"

"Do you not understand how that's a bad thing?"

"Yeah, I know," Archibald said, letting out a sigh as he leaned his chair back.

"From what I've heard of the incident, it's possible that Alexander could've awakened right then and there," Eldritch claimed.

"But he didn't."

Eldritch sighed. "Allow me to be frank. Leave this... this 'war' to the Magecraft Association. The Exorcists can handle the demons. The Knights and everyone else will handle the Golden Dawn. The Paladins will only be called to duty if necessary. This is the best option. You understand that, don't you?"

"I understand that you're wrong. It's not as simple as you think. It's-"

"This war is just beginning, Charles," he interrupted. "It... It isn't simply just fighting demons. Now... Now is when the curtain rises. This plan of yours won't work. There will be too much blood on your hands if you continue down this path. You cannot-"

Archibald glared at Eldritch. "Is there anything else you wish to say to me, Eldritch?"

Eldritch let out an exasperated sigh, still muffled through his mask. "You know what? I suppose there's no point in arguing," he said, getting up from his chair, picking up his cane.

"Just try to understand that now is when the curtain rises," he said, exiting the room.

Once more, he muttered, "Now is when the curtain rises..."

Archibald spat out a sigh.

"I hate it here," he mumbled, before resting his head onto his desk.

It wasn't long before another knock echoed at his door.

"Who the hell is it now?" he grumbled to himself.

As he raised his head, his eyes met that of a black-haired man. Archibald smiled.

The man was clad in black, with a trenchcoat that descended just below his knees. He let out a sigh as he entered.

"Long time no see," Archibald said. "Adam Lane."

He dropped himself onto the chair before Archibald's desk. "You know why I'm here," he said, his voice tired and stale.

Archbald stared at Adam's eyes. His near-black eyes were sunken into his pale skin, with dark circles under them.

"Why are you sleep-depriving yourself?"

Adam remained silent.

"Dude, you're an adult. Take care of yourself."

"Says you."

"Don't start with that."

Adam sighed. "You've aged a decade in the past three years. What'd I tell you about using that magic?"

"What'd I tell you about eating three meals a day?"

Adam stared through the window behind Archibald.

The storm clouds that covered the skies began to rumble, as raindrops slowly pattered against the brick roads. He smiled.

"I've missed New York's rain."

Archibald furrowed his eyebrows. "I thought you hated New York."

"I do. But I like rain."

"So," Adam continued. "How's Alexander?"

"Doing great, actually. He's a quick learner. Making friends. Killed Belphegor, too."

"Hmm. Good to know he's getting stronger."

Archibald smiled in agreement. "So when do you plan on seeing him?"

Adam shook his head as he stared at the floor. "I've told you this, Charles. I can't afford that. Two curse bearers don't end up well."

"Adam, I don't think you understand. He's your son. If-"

"You're the one that doesn't understand, Charles. I'm not saying some will have a heart attack or anything. But we're both cursed. The energy of our curse would be too much. Something bad would be bound to happen. Do you know how many people have died because of me?"

Archibald nodded. He took in a sharp breath.

"I'll meet him one day," Adam said, before letting out a sigh.

"When would that be? After he goes through an Awakening? Can you really afford to wait that long?"

Adam sat in silence. "Waiting just seems like the best option," he said, his eyes once again fixated on the dark storm clouds.

Archibald sighed at Adam's words, staring at his blank dark eyes. "Well, in any case," he said, opening a drawer in his desk. He reached into it, pulling out a sheathed dagger. "You'll be needing this. For the mission."

He passed it to Adam, whose fingers quickly coiled around its hilt.

"For the mission, huh?" The weapon was wrapped in black leather. He quickly unsheathed it, staring at its obsidian black blade, perfectly contrasting against its stark white hilt.

"How'd you find one of their bases?" he asked, still marveling at the blade.

"I can't tell you that much."

"Oh," Adam said. "So it's Hohenheim, huh? The Treacherous Paladin."

"Yeah. But don't call him that to his face. He's not exactly happy about it.

A slight smile floated unto Adam's lips, as he said, "This is Arthur's dagger, isn't it? How'd you get it?"

"I pulled some strings to get it. It was just collecting dust in an armory, anyway. You would make use of it more than anyone."

Adam nodded.

"You know... You don't have to leave. I can assign someone else to this."

Adam's face was resolute, his eyes gleaming with grim determination. "No. If these bastards started Tribulation... I'll..."

"I'll do what I can."

He continued, "You know who I hate the most? Those that hurt others without a second thought. Scum that only care for their own desires and nothing else. Those that feel no sense of guilt as long as they benefit for themselves. Unjust evil. The Golden Dawn is a paragon of that breed. I don't care about how they feel or what they think. I don't even want to understand. Even if God and all the deities forgive them... I won't. Even if all demons and devils accept them, I won't."

His eyes met Archibald's. "I'll do what I can," he repeated.

- - - - -

Alexander sat on his bed. He sat still, barely moving. "Why the hell do I have so much energy?" he groaned to himself, throwing himself onto the bed.

He sighed. Again.

Generally speaking, this day had been mundane. Even so, something was making his heart beat with excitement.

He had spent less than an hour talking to Archibald, and immediately returned home. He told everything related to the battle to his mom and Emilia. He slept again. And he still couldn't shake the energy that rattled his bones.

Alexander paused.

He shook his head, trying to force out his thoughts. Questioning the why behind it would be useless. He simply stood up and took a deep breath.

"I'm gonna do push-ups," he told himself.

It was then that Alexander noticed the glowing circle beneath him. It swirled with dark blue light, the imperfect circle crackling like lightning.

"Well, that's not good."

The circle expanded and Alexander began to fall through.

His eyes widened as his feet immediately landed onto a polished wooden floor.

"Sorry for kidnapping you," Anastasia said. "Just needed you to be here."

"Uh... Yeah. Why am I here, though?" Alexander asked, his eyes glancing over the walls by his sides.

"Because-"

Lumiel suddenly appeared as she nudged Anastasia with her elbow. "Woah, you needed Alexander to be here? That's-"

"Lumiel, you're the one who told me to bring him here."

"Yeah, that's true," she mumbled.

"So... what is here?"

"My house. Just throwing a party for us Virtues."

Anastasia spat out a sigh. "Lumiel, it's not a party. It's seven people in-"

"It's a party!" she exclaimed, laughing, before disappearing in a flash of light.

Anastasia sighed again. "She just wanted to celebrate the fact that we beat a demon. Well... Killed a demon," she said.

"Come on," Anastasia said, walking off in the direction Lumiel had disappeared in.

As Alexander followed, Anastasia spoke again.

"So..." she began. "How are you alive?"

"...What?"

"We all saw it. Belphegor hit you with his axe. There was blood everywhere. And you're perfectly fine."

"I guess so."

"That injury should've been beyond healing. Blood vessels, organs, bones. All of that must've been damaged. And you're fine?"

"Seems like it."

Anastasia smiled. "You seriously don't know how you survived that?"

Alexander shook his head as he smiled in return. "No idea. But I'm alive. That's fun."

They opened the door to see the other Virtues, talking and eating, seated and standing around the room.

"Well, what about the Golden Dawn? Y'know, they're still a threat, aren't they?" Gabriel asked.

Liam sighed, "Yeah, but the Paladins will probably do something. So you guys shouldn't worry about them."

Giovanna smiled, "The Paladins'll probably make quick work of the Golden Dawn."

"Of course they will. They're the Paladins."

"You guys walk really slow, y'know that?" Lumiel asked. She motioned them to sit down beside her.

"This must be one hell of a month for you," she said to him as soon as he sat down.

"Yeah," he muttered, smiling. "Still, this whole thing is kinda... fun."

Alexander turned to the conversation at his side.

"Yeah, in fact, Gabriel and I are cousins," Lumiel said with a grin.

"And Charles Archibald's our uncle!" he said as he smiled, high fiving Lumiel.

"Okay, but guess what?" Leonard interject. "My dad's a Paladin!" he said, proudly. "So to summarize... I'm better."

"Stop bragging about your families," Liam interrupted. "Can't you guys just enjoy this?" he said, a thin smile creeping onto his lips.

Lumiel eyes widened. "Liam, did you just smile?"

The grin immediately faded as his ears gained a scarlet hue. "...No."

"That was the first time I've seen Liam smile. The very first time," she said.

He cleared his throat, beginning to speak. "So... I didn't smile. To clarify."

Liam stood up. "I'm pretty sure I'm the oldest here. And that means I have to make a speech. That's what Lumiel told me earlier, at least."

"And even though most of us didn't do anything, we still ought to celebrate the victory. Basically, we're one-seventh of the way done. So... This is weird. Can I sit down?" he asked Lumiel.

Lumiel shook her head. "Not until you say it."

He sighed. "To the Virtues!" he exclaimed.

"To the Virtues!" they cheered in return.

Liam finally sat down, with another slight smile.

As he was surrounded by smiling faces, Alexander thought to himself, 'These guys...'

He nodded. 'Yeah, they are my friends.'

Alexander paused, realizing that he was feeling something he hadn't felt before. Some kind of happiness that welled up in the depths of his heart.

Why am I like this, he asked himself.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and joy.