Madness: DxD

Terms of Survival

The city below hums like a bad habit. Neon bleeds into smog. I lean on the railing, ceramic mug warming my hands. Coffee's burnt. Still better than most things down here.

I take a sip.

Footsteps.

Measured. Unhurried. Closing the distance like they already own it.

I don't turn.

Y/N: You know, most people knock.

A shadow stretches across the balcony tiles, long and theatrical.

Alastor: Ah, but where's the drama in that, my dear Harbinger of Death?

I finally glance over. Alastor stands there smiling like he's about to host a funeral and a game show at the same time. Suit immaculate. Eyes alive in that wrong way.

Y/N: Balcony's closed. Hotel policy.

Alastor: I am policy.

He steps closer. The air prickles, like an old radio warming up.

Alastor: Now, before pleasantries rot on the vine, care to explain why the lobby resembles a demolished armory?

I take another sip. Let it stretch.

Y/N: Carmine sent a tungsten golem after me.

That gets a twitch. Just a microfracture in the smile.

Alastor: Tungsten? How gauche. She used to have taste.

Y/N: An Overlord possessed it. I caved his head in.

Alastor: Naturally.

He leans on the railing beside me, looking down like the city owes him money.

Alastor: You've been busy, Harbinger. Overlords don't simply vanish unless someone very determined is trimming the hedge.

Y/N: I'm not the determined one here. You are.

Alastor: I noticed. I always do.

I finally look straight at him.

Y/N: Then you already know who's next.

His grin sharpens.

Alastor: Carmilla Carmine. Arms dealer. Matriarch. Control freak. A woman who hides her heart behind her daughters.

Silence settles between us, thick and comfortable.

Y/N: I'm already on her tail after that stunt she pulled with the damned golem.

Alastor: Oh, I'd be offended if you weren't.

I set the mug down on the railing.

Y/N: Thought about asking Vaggie what she knows. Turns out she has an apprenticeship with Carmine.

Alastor: Mm. And the moment you ask, she sings like a canary straight to Carmine.

Y/N: Precisely.

Alastor: Smart man.

He taps his cane once. The sound echoes wrong.

Alastor: Carmine's cautious lately. Pulled back her shipments. Shifted operations closer to home. It would be difficult to track her down.

Y/N: You mentioned she has daughters?

Alastor: Clara and Odette. They aren't fighters. They're Sheltered. Educated. Loved.