The skies over Kuoh turned ashen.
It began with a subtle shift in the air—no earthquakes, no great howling winds, just a silence so heavy it smothered sound itself. Birds took flight, animals fled to their dens, and even the most oblivious humans felt the chill of something immense stirring.
In the void between dimensions, Amon stood atop an obsidian monolith surrounded by a halo of unraveling realities. The once-whimsical gleam in his eyes was now gone. He no longer smirked, no longer played. His lips were a tight line, his gaze a needlepoint of dread purpose.
His voice, calm yet final, echoed through the twisting space.
"The time for games has passed."
The Mad Avatar watched him from the periphery, cautious.
"Is it wise to begin now?"
Amon turned, expression unmoved. "Issei Hyoudou's soul disrupts the order I require. He is the bearer of fate's chaos. Before I shape the new world, I must erase the anomaly."
He raised a hand and summoned a mirror of shadow. Within it, the reflection of Issei's home shimmered to life. Issei's parents sat at the dinner table, smiling, unaware. Innocent.
The Mad Avatar cocked his head. "You'll strike through them?"
"Through them, I sever the roots of his will. I crush the idea of sanctuary in his heart. And when the fire within him dies, his soul will break."
---
Meanwhile, in Kuoh Town, Issei Hyoudou walked down the street with a grin on his face. He had just finished training with Kiba and Xenovia. Even with the recent chaos, the tension had seemed to subside—Amon had retreated, and Azazel's latest intelligence suggested no immediate danger.
Peace. Or what passed for it.
Issei looked up at the sky. "Feels weird not being hunted. I kinda miss the adrenaline."
He turned the corner and froze.
Smoke.
Billowing, black, consuming. The direction was unmistakable—his home.
"No..."
He broke into a sprint, heart slamming against his chest, each step slower than his mind begged it to be. He arrived just in time to see the last embers consuming what once was a two-story home. The flames danced like devils, refusing to die.
Rias and Akeno appeared beside him moments later, summoned by a sudden magical surge.
"Issei!" Rias reached for him, but he stumbled forward, coughing. His face pale.
"My parents... were inside. I just saw them this morning..." He staggered, staring into the inferno, eyes bloodshot.
Rias bit her lip. There was no magical trace left. Whatever had happened—it had been done cleanly, perfectly. Like a god had swatted a building away.
---
From his throne of shifting light and darkness, Amon observed.
"Now the unraveling begins."
He waved a hand, and another mirror appeared—showing Xenovia, walking alone in the church ruins near the forest. Amon studied her.
"Each piece must fall alone, isolated. They are strong together. But one by one, they break."
The Mad Avatar chuckled nervously. "You're certain you want to kill them all now? Slowly?"
Amon's answer was swift. "They are obstacles to my throne. Compassion will not delay me further."
---
Back in the clubroom, Rias assembled the entire peerage. The loss of Issei's parents had left a cold shadow over them.
"This wasn't an accident," she stated. "There was no magical residue. No signs of mundane accelerants. This was deliberate."
"Amon," Azazel muttered, having just joined them. "This is how he'll begin. He'll pick us off. Not through confrontation, but devastation."
Issei, silent until now, finally spoke.
"He killed my parents to break me."
He looked up, and there was no trace of the perverted goofball. Only steel.
"He won't get that satisfaction. He thinks pain will make me fold. He doesn't know that pain is what made me a Devil in the first place."
Kiba clenched his fists. "Then we fight back."
Azazel nodded. "He's not retreating anymore. He's begun the purge. We must move first."
---
In the remains of the Gremory domain, hidden beneath a barrier warded by angelic and devilish seals, Sirzechs met with Michael.
"It's begun, then," Michael said gravely.
Sirzechs's usual calm was gone. "Yes. Amon's war won't be loud. It will be surgical. He wants godhood, and to him, we're bacteria."
Michael looked to the horizon. "Then we must prepare. For the first time in millennia... God's seat is truly threatened."
---
Far from mortal reach, Amon stared down at the chessboard of reality. One by one, the pieces were moved.
Issei's suffering was only the first note in the symphony of silence he was composing.
He muttered to himself, the words lost in wind and shadow.
"This world has forgotten fear. Let me remind them."
And with that, he turned to the next mirror—eyes settling on Xenovia, unaware of the blade descending upon her from the sky.
The silence had begun. The gods would soon remember why blasphemers should be feared.
Author note:
Hey guys! If you're enjoying the story, toss a Power Stone my way—it really helps keep me motivated to write more. Thanks for reading!