Where I Belong

He'll Rise

I DO NOT OWN AO NO EXORCIST

The exorcists and the Grigori tumbled alike. They ran everywhere like little ants disturbed in their habitat. They are afraid of the blue flames. The hate and intent in its smoke are so potent. The dancing flames of hell are laughing and taunting them just like its owner. No matter how much holy water they spray on it, the flames only burned brighter and fiercer. The heat lashed and burn. The building will not withhold another hours on this fiery heat. Everything will collapse. Everything will burn. Everything they worked hard for will be lost. They need help.

The Grigori realized this when the building quaked in its deep rooted foundation. The incantations and charms are not enough. They won't suffice. The only thing that can diffuse the flames of hell now would be another demon's power. A demon who they know is powerful and able enough.

"Call for Sir Pheles! Now!" the booming voice of the Head Grigori resonated within the collapsing room.

A lower rank Exorcist heeds the Head's orders and immediately inserted his key to a door towards where he thinks is Sir Pheles. His pounding heart and shivering form entered the door and surprisingly enough, the Honorary Knight is there, sitting on his posh chair and calmly sipping his tea as if no destruction is going on in the Vatican.

"Sir Pheles!" the exorcist exclaimed. "The Head Grigori asked for your assistance, Sir!"

Mephisto, after his failed attempt of talking to the Vatican council, vanished to where his brothers are in Assiah. They agreed to congregate in a sealed-off mountain where no one can enter. It's a perfect meeting place for demons with caliber such as them. The mountain was far from civilization and the Vatican does not have anyone to watch over it. The thick foliage of the mountain was enough to cover the lights of their bright flames.

On top of the mountain, a small clearing surrounded by tall and robust trees, his demon brothers wait. As he appeared in a flashy pink light, Iblis was on him.

"So? So? How was your, uhh, talk? With those shitheads?" he asked. Mephisto sighed on his sibling's antics and pushed the very eager Iblis out of his personal space.

He looked around and saw the same eagerness on his brothers no matter how much they try to hide it from their faces. He smirked.

"What do you think happened?" he condescendingly asked.

"Samael, I know you enjoy knowing something we do not and I am happy to oblige you to your habit most of the time but now is not that time, brother." Azazel, the second born and Demon King of Spirits stated calmly. Mephisto whipped his head towards his brother who is always the polite and calm one. Amongst them all, Azazel is the one with a cool head, he never does things he deemed unnecessary. He is the most peaceful of them all but at times like this, Mephisto can't help but pout like a petulant child. Azazel always knows how to ruin his fun.

And Beelzebub. Never forget that old Insect King.

Azazel has his short white hair fall upon his brows. His eyes, two pools of silver surrounded with a ring of brown, were calm and cool. He wears a pair of black pants, white long sleeved shirt and a vest decorated with gold chains and gold buttons. His long black coat on his lean shoulders looked like capes, billowing with the winds.