A soft, pure white light shimmered across the battlefield—like a snow lotus blooming under the cover of night.

Gentle and radiant, it pierced the darkness, illuminating everything with a divine brilliance that seemed almost too sacred to exist in a world like this.

Everyone stopped.

Even amidst the lingering tension and broken silence, not a single person could move their gaze from the ethereal scene before them.

And yet, among all the stunned witnesses, only one truly understood what was happening.

Akira.

Things had deviated far from the original plan. The chaos, the enemies, the betrayal... none of it was foreseen.

But this—this was something more.

Despite everything, Yuuto Kiba had reached this moment.

Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was divine providence.

Maybe both.

Around Kiba's trembling body, tiny orbs of light slowly appeared—one after another, glowing softly like fireflies on a quiet night.

He stared, eyes wide with disbelief.

And then, those lights began to shift.

They took shape.

Not into monsters. Not weapons. But into children—boys and girls, all young, all familiar.

Their presence felt holy. Pure. Not a trace of malice or darkness.

Because they weren't just illusions.

They were fragments of the Holy Sword Factor—the crystallized remnants of souls who once held the potential to wield sacred swords.

"E-Everyone…"

Kiba collapsed to his knees.

Tears spilled freely, unstoppable. They fell onto his uniform like rain, soaking through the fabric, warm and raw.

Surrounding him, the children smiled gently, forming a circle as if he were the moon and they, the stars.

Then—without warning—they pressed their hands to their chests.

And began to sing.

A hymn.

It was a melody every Church believer knew by heart—an ancient hymn sung in praise of God, passed down through generations.

From Popes to bishops, from priests to nuns—every single one of them had memorized it like a sacred rite.

Now, in this forgotten battlefield, it returned.

Sung not in churches or cathedrals—but by the dead.

A song Kiba hadn't heard in years… yet had never truly forgotten.

"…Are they… spirits?" Xenovia's voice trembled.

Her sword hand stayed lowered, eyes locked on the scene in front of her.

They looked like spirits—but something about them felt… different.

"Not spirits," Akira replied softly, stepping beside her.

"Then what are they?" she asked.

"They're the last remnants of a dying wish," Akira answered. "The emotional echo left behind in their final moments. You could call them… a manifestation of unfulfilled hope."

"Hope…" Xenovia repeated under her breath.

Her grip tightened.

The purity surrounding those children wasn't something she could deny. It wasn't blasphemous. If anything, it felt closer to God than anything she'd seen in years.

Then—one of the girls stepped forward.

Her voice rang out clear.

"…Isaiah."

Kiba's head snapped up.

That name—his name—the name he had long abandoned.

He had hoped.

He wanted it to be real.

But deep inside, he knew.

They were gone.

And yet, the voices kept coming.

"It's okay if you forget about us, Isaiah."

"Live… live for all of us."

"Carry our dreams. Find your happiness."

"Isaiah…"

One by one, their words echoed like a farewell.

Xenovia stood frozen.

Only now did the full truth dawn on her.

These children—boys and girls once full of life—had all been part of the Holy Sword Project. Just like Kiba.

But unlike him, they never escaped.

They never got a second chance.

Kiba was the sole survivor.

Now, in their final hour, they came not to haunt him…

…but to bless him.

Even in death, they held no hatred. Only warmth.

Only the hope that he would live the life they never could.

"Everyone…"

Still kneeling, Kiba lowered his head again.

His tears fell harder now—grief, guilt, gratitude… all mixed together in a storm that wouldn't end.

He remembered everything.

Back then, he had been the youngest in the group.

The others had always looked after him.

Protected him.

Loved him.

And even now… even now… they were still protecting him.

Then—

BOOM.

A surge of power exploded into the air.

The spiritual children—the emotional remnants of the fallen—rose with radiant light.

And within that light, something inside Kiba snapped.

His resolve ignited.

His soul answered.

Every emotion—anger, sorrow, gratitude, love—fused together in a blinding surge of energy.

The Sacred Gear embedded in his soul—Sword Birth—responded instantly.

It had always been a tool of darkness.

A cursed creation of demonic energy, forging blades born of hatred.

But now… something new stirred within it.

The Holy Sword Factors—the very essence extracted from his fallen friends—sank into his body.

Becoming one with him.

In the past, those Factors had been torn from him. His compatibility stolen.

But now… it returned.

Not as a tool of war.

But as a gift.

A treasure, born of friendship, forged in sacrifice.

The Sacred Gear began to evolve.

Resonating.

Changing.

A Sacred Gear's potential was limitless. Even its creators could not predict what would happen when it fused with the deepest emotions of the human heart.

And now—something impossible was happening.

From within the Devil's sword… a Holy Sword was being born.

Holy and Demonic.

Light and Darkness.

Kiba's hands trembled.

Then—

"Sword Birth!"

In his right hand, a sword of darkness took form.

A demonic blade—sharp, sleek, and humming with power.

"Blade Blacksmith!"

In his left, a holy sword emerged.

Radiant. Pure. Alive with sacred light.

A Devil had created a Holy Sword.

Everyone watching—Xenovia, Irina, even the battle-hardened warriors of the Grigori—could only stare.

A miracle.

A contradiction.

A phenomenon that defied every known law of magic, faith, and science.

"It's happening," Akira murmured.

"The fusion of Holy Sword and Demonic Sword… The birth of a weapon that should never exist."

The Holy-Demonic Sword.

Before anyone could question it, Kiba's transformation reached its apex.

The invisible chains binding him to the lower ranks of Devil society shattered.

His body surged with new power—he had ascended.

From a Low-Class Devil…

To a Mid-Class Devil, worthy of commanding a battlefield.

[Balance Breaker]

『Holy Demonic Sword of Twin Supremacy』

The two swords in his hands began to merge.

And from that fusion, a new weapon emerged—a double-edged sword of divine symmetry.

One side holy, the other demonic.

A perfect balance of light and shadow.

"Yuuto…"

Rias Gremory's voice trembled.

Her eyes, once filled with worry, now softened with warmth.

The boy who had once been shackled by vengeance…

…had let it go.

And the one who had given him the strength to do that—

Was the man standing beside her.

"…Thank you," she whispered.

Akira smiled faintly.

"We're family," he replied.

"No need for formalities."

"Uuh…"

Rias's cheeks flushed pink.

She hadn't expected that.

Was that… a confession?

Was he acknowledging her?

That they would really be together one day?

The thought made her heart race.

Her mind spun in circles.

Beside her, Akeno let out a soft giggle.

She had known Rias since they were children.

And now… they both loved the same man.

And they were bound by more than friendship now.

They were bound by something deeper.

But not everyone was smiling.

From a short distance away, Koneko Toujou watched quietly.

She didn't speak.

Didn't move.

Her small hands clenched at her sides.

She had been the first to reach him.

She had been the one always at his side.

So why…?

Why did she feel like she was being left behind?

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