Morning poured gently through the tall windows of the Vatican, casting rays across the marble floors.
In one of the many quarters reserved for distinguished guests, Arthur stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting the strap of his red hoodie over his shoulder.
He wore the standard exorcist combat uniform, except for the white robe, which lay folded and discarded on the bed behind him.
According to him, it was far too tacky for his taste.
"Who designs these things? A grandpa with a fetish for minors in leather, or so- you know what? That would make perfect sense."
He muttered, brushing a few strands of crimson hair away from his face.
He reached toward the small nightstand beside his bed.
Resting on top of it was a small golden locket and a picture frame holding a photograph of his mother dressed in white robes.
Arthur picked up the locket, opened it, and stared for a moment at the miniature portrait of him and his mother inside.
He went to the mirror so he could see his own reflection, his own features a strange blend of his mother's gentle emerald eyes and his father's fiery crimson hair.
He exhaled slowly.
"Why hasn't he visited me yet? Or even tried contacting me... I wonder if he knew... or even cared in the first place..."
He muttered to himself.
(A penny for your thoughts, partner?)
Ddraig's voice echoed softly within his mind, not prying, just observant.
Arthur gave a small, tired smile, still looking into the mirror.
"Nah. It's nothing. Just feeling a little... melancholic, I guess."
He replied with a shrug.
He turned away from the mirror and let his gaze fall to the far corner of the room.
There, resting neatly against the wall on a small weapon rack, were the six original fragments of Excalibur.
Excalibur Destruction, Excalibur Mimic, Excalibur Rapidly, Excalibur Nightmare, Excalibur Transparency, and Excalibur Blessing.
(Only a day in, and you already got them to return your Holy Swords. Not bad, for someone who walked in threatening genocide yesterday.)
Ddraig mused.
Arthur chuckled and folded his arms.
"Yeah, I'm just as surprised as you are. Thought they'd stall or come up with a million excuses."
He walked over to the swords, his boots quiet against the floor.
"But knowing them, they'll watch me like a hawk from now on. Wouldn't be shocked if half those geezers are already scheming behind their rosaries."
He added.
(Hmph. Wouldn't put it past them. But they also can't afford to lose a Longinus user. Especially one with your pedigree. Offending the Pendragon household, not to mention Gabriel herself… would be suicide.)
Ddraig rumbled.
Arthur nodded, crouching to run his fingers lightly along the hilt of Excalibur Destruction.
"Yeah... That's the only reason they're keeping their mouths shut. Fear. Not trust. But if it works, there's no need to fix it."
He stood and summoned half of his Boosted Gear, the red gauntlet forming around his left arm.
He raised his arm and held it over the blades.
"Better safe than sorry."
The six swords vanished one by one in a shimmer of light, sealed away into his gauntlet's storage space.
The half Boosted Gear then dissolved into red particles.
Arthur sighed, cracking his knuckles.
"Alright... Let's get this circus started."
He walked toward the door and placed his hand on the handle.
"Ready, partner?"
(Always, partner.)
Came Ddraig's proud, resonant answer.
The door creaked open and Arthur stepped into the hallway, the scent of incense and polished stone greeting him as sunlight streamed in from high, arched windows.
As he walked the polished corridors, the reaction was instant.
Whispers.
Soft gasps.
Glances quickly averted.
Priests, clerics, and sisters of the cloth shifted away as he passed.
Some turned their backs, some clasped their hands tighter in prayer.
A few simply stared with outright disdain, as if he were a walking blasphemy.
Arthur smirked, unaffected.
(So much for holy hospitality.)
(They're treating you like you're the Antichrist... which they're not wrong, technically.)
Ddraig commented dryly.
(Guess I should've worn the pedo robes, then. Would've fit in with the choirboys.)
Arthur said with mock regret.
Ddraig chuckled.
(Don't flatter yourself.)
Arthur walked past a very young nun who looked visibly startled when she noticed his gaze.
She fumbled with the rosary in her hands and turned away, muttering a prayer under her breath.
"You know, that reminds me. Do you mind reminding me to send Le Fay a letter later? Thanks."
Arthur murmured, hands in his hoodie pockets.
(Hmph. What am I, your personal assistant? Do your own memos.)
Ddraig huffed.
"You're the great red dragon living rent-free in my body. That means you have to do other stuff."
Arthur replied, tone smug.
(Such as?)
"Being my backup memory bank, my security system for my soul, and giving me pep talks when I'm feeling down. The list goes on."
Ddraig groaned.
(I'm starting to rethink my life choices, which led me to my position.)
Arthur gave a short laugh and pushed open a heavy wooden door that led to the Vatican's main cafeteria.
The scent of bread, eggs, and strong coffee hit him at once.
Several rows of wooden tables were already half-filled with exorcists and priests, all eating in peace.
Until Arthur stepped in.
Forks paused halfway to mouths, conversations halted, and all eyes turned to him.
Some stared with open hostility, others with wariness, and a few with quiet curiosity.
Arthur just smirked.
"Take a picture, it lasts longer. But I won't be taking autographs."
He said with a wink and then walked straight to the serving area as if he owned the place.
(One day in and you've already made the whole building nervous.)
Ddraig chuckled, impressed.
Arthur grabbed a tray.
(Yeah. I'd say I'm fitting in just fine.)
Arthur stood at the end of the serving line, tray at hand and one eyebrow raised as he scanned the bland, grayish options that looked like they'd been prepared by someone who had declared war on flavor.
"Seriously?"
Arthur muttered as he eyed the gloppy mess labeled 'porridge.'
The bald, square-jawed cook behind the counter gave him a glare that had probably scared cockroaches into submission.
"You got a problem, devil boy?"
The cook asked, arms folded with a large ladle in one hand.
Arthur lazily pointed to the line of sad-looking trays.
"Got anything even remotely edible?"
The cook scoffed.
"You got two options: eat or don't. Kitchen's not here to babysit you brats."
Arthur groaned and rubbed his temples.
"Why do I feel like I'm being punished for something I haven't done yet?"
He begrudgingly picked up a piece of overly buttered toast, grabbed a black coffee that looked strong enough to melt iron, and left the line without another word.
The whispers around him hadn't ceased, and he could still feel the uneasy stares sticking to him like burrs.
He dropped his tray onto the empty table in the farthest corner and slumped into the seat with a tired sigh.
"You know, I really should've made my own breakfast."
(Or snuck into the Pope's wine cellar. I bet there's cheese in there. Good cheese.)
Ddraig added, clearly just as unimpressed.
Arthur ignored the comment and pulled out his flip phone.
The screen buzzed as he opened the news app.
"Mysterious Gas Leaks Reported in London, Cairo, Tokyo — Officials Say Cause Still Unknown."
He kept scrolling down to see more of the article, then paused as he took a sip of his-
"PFFT! Ughh...! What the...? Why does it taste like something crawled into the filter and died?"
He quickly wiped his mouth with his hoodie's sleeve.
The cafeteria door suddenly flew open with dramatic force, the loud slam echoing off the cathedral-like walls.
"Where is the hybrid named Arthur Pendragon?"
A voice rang out confidently.
Every fork and cup halted midair, heads turned, and every exorcist in the room stared wide-eyed at the new arrival.
Standing in the doorway was a teenager no older than Arthur, seventeen, maybe eighteen, with spiky blond hair and clear green eyes.
He wore a casual set of priest robes and had a half-eaten sandwich in one hand.
The whispers began immediately.
"That's Dulio Gesualdo…"
"The strongest exorcist of the current generation…"
"I heard he took out a whole undead legion with a single attack…"
"It's Heaven's Vanguard... The Coming Storm…"
(The Strongest Exorcist, huh? I can sense Typhon's power within him. That boy must have possessed the Longinus, Zenith Tempest.)
Ddraig muttered with interest.
But Arthur already knew all of that, and he is focused on Dulio's title.
("The Coming Storm"? Really? That name belongs to one man only, and that is the tax-evading, power-hungry, motivated-darkslayer Vergil. Everyone else is just a mere imitation... or his kid, depending on the narrative.)
Dulio stood confidently in the doorway, chewing on his sandwich with casual boldness.
"I'm gonna ask again. Where is Arthur Pendragon?"
He asked again.
Everyone turned slowly, their gazes locking onto Arthur at his corner table.
The tension thickened, but Arthur didn't even flinch; he just raised his head, stared directly at Dulio, and spoke flatly.
"What? You hungry for a knuckle sandwich or something?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
A few hopeful eyes lit up, quietly praying for the smug half-devil to finally get put in his place.
Dulio didn't respond at first as he simply locked eyes with Arthur and walked forward, still chewing his sandwich.
Step by step, the air grew heavier, the tension reached a boiling point.
Some exorcists subtly reached for the door, while others leaned forward, watching with gleaming anticipation.
Arthur's eyes narrowed as Dulio approached the table.
The two Longinus users stood just feet apart, one exuding divine energy like a calm before the storm, the other radiating untapped destruction beneath his laid-back exterior.
Their standoff was silent, the anticipation deafening.
Dulio sat down casually across from Arthur and took another bite of his sandwich.
"So… you're the guy who beat the crap out of Sieg and Jeanne."
Dulio said through a mouthful.
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"…Yeah. You wanna have a go, or are you just here to ruin my already tragic breakfast?"
Dulio swallowed and held up a finger.
"I only thing to say to you, kid."
The room fell utterly silent.
Arthur's right foot shifted slightly, and he was ready to flip the table and end this quickly if it came to that.
He could already picture launching Dulio across the room with a Boosted Gear-enhanced punch.
Then Dulio grinned.
"Wanna hang out and make fun of those two lovebirds?"
The entire cafeteria froze.
Even Ddraig was stunned.
(…Did he just…?)
Arthur blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
Dulio leaned back, finishing his sandwich like they were old friends meeting at a diner.
"C'mon. I heard Jeanne's still steaming and Sieg's brooding like a discount anime swordsman. Thought we could mess with them a bit while they're at the training grounds. What do you say?"
For a second, Arthur just stared at him.
Then a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"That depends… are they still mad at me after yesterday?"
"Oh, absolutely."
Dulio grinned, standing up and dusting off his robes.
"I think Sieg wants to butcher you alive after you almost broke his balls."
Arthur chuckled, finally standing up from his side of the table and stretching his arms.
"Well, in that case…"
The two of them walked toward the cafeteria doors side by side, casually chatting like they'd known each other for years.
They laughed quietly as Dulio whispered something about Sieg's sword collection and Arthur responded with a comment about Jeanne's billboard-like forehead.
Everyone in the cafeteria just stared in complete disbelief.
Mouths hung open, and whispers were now stunned silence.
The strongest exorcist in the Vatican had just befriended the half-devil who threatened to burn the place down yesterday.
"…What in God's name just happened?"
DxD
Hello readers!
Fun Fact: In a past life, Arthur was a big fan of OP characters, such as Vergil and Escanor, and would sometimes quote them to sound cool.
Thank you everyone and see you later!