Through Other Eyes

Here’s today’s chapter.

If anyone wants to read 3/7/13 chapters ahead or simply support me, you can do so on my (P)(A)(T). If not, I still thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my story—truly, thank you!

With that said, good night everyone, and enjoy the read!

(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori.

[...]---[...]

POV: Jinn

I was sitting on the floor of Proto-A’s command deck, surrounded by mountains of paper. I had taken advantage of the few minutes when my dear Devas wasn’t causing trouble to get my hands on some books.

Hundreds of them—unfortunately not the thousands I would have liked.

I was organizing them to store inside the Relic of Knowledge when the source of my past, recent, current, and future worries walked into the room.

Devas looked the same. If I hadn’t seen him vomiting and bleeding from every opening in his face just minutes ago, I wouldn’t have believed it had happened.

He was clean and walked calmly, his right hand holding the Slick Cane, which tapped against the floor with every step. The only thing out of the ordinary was the faintly disturbed look in his eyes.

I stared at him. My feelings were complicated.

Was this how a mother felt? Or was it a wife? I had knowledge of such things, of course—from Remnant—but I had never experienced them myself.

It was… frustrating.

I loved Devas; that was something I had come to terms with long ago. Both for what he had done for me and for who he was.

The Human Devas was something beautiful.

But at the same time, I felt an overwhelming urge to grab him by the neck and squeeze until he passed out, just so I could drag him to the nearest bed or couch and make him rest.

I would chain him up too, if I didn’t know he could snap the chains just by flexing his muscles.

For such a large man, he really could act incredibly childish when he wanted to.

Uhm… mother or wife?

I could easily be both for Devas. Humans liked that, as far as I knew. Both the ones from Remnant and the ones from Earth.

And I knew a lot!

Devas shouldn’t be much different. After all, there had to be a reason the image he had of himself, in his own mind, was still that of a child.

I didn’t have children, so I didn’t think I qualified as a MILF. A Mommy, then? I could increase my size and grow taller than Devas. A few extra inches—and thicker, too…

A Mommy would probably fit better.

A Blue Mommy.

Maybe Devas was infecting me…

My gaze sharpened when I felt something tap the tip of my nose twice. I went slightly cross-eyed, looking at what had touched me: the fingertip of a hand made of shadows.

I brushed the hand away. It vanished like a hallucination moments later, and I looked at Devas. He was standing about three meters away.

“I felt like I’d be in danger if I got any closer,” he said, explaining without me asking.

He paused, staring at me before adding, somewhat hesitantly, “In more ways than one, for some reason.”

I simply stared at him.

“For someone who just invaded paradise in the most reckless way possible, your survival instincts are surprisingly good.” I huffed, slapping my thighs as I stood up.

I covered the books around me with my mana and pulled them into the Relic of Knowledge. I would finish cataloging them later. I wanted to place them in Proto-A’s library.

I had managed to get a bit of everything: from Greek philosophical treatises and nuclear engineering manuals to botanical encyclopedias and quantum physics books.

One book in particular caught my attention: The Divine Comedy, by Dante Alighieri.

The concept of the circles of Hell was incredibly fascinating, especially considering that this world had a Hell of its own. The author was also from the same country as Devas’s grandfather, so that was a bonus point.

“…Actually, that’s not quite right. It wasn’t exactly an invasion,” Devas replied as he watched the books disappear.

“You literally entered Heaven.”

“Not quite.” He shook his head before calmly explaining, “What I did was manifest a delineation of my presence directly inside paradise, using the concept of a prayer as both an invitation and an anchor.”

“So it wasn’t an invasion, since I had an invitation, nor did ‘I’ directly enter Heaven,” he finished.

After the explanation, he fell silent for a moment. I did the same.

It was impressive how he could make the absurd things he did sound almost normal just by the way he explained them. Not because the explanation made the feat any less outrageous; if anything, it only showed how absurd he truly was.

But the way he simply didn’t seem to care or find it impressive made everything feel… casual.

I sighed.

At least he was improving. He used to be worse.

“An invitation?” I raised an eyebrow.

He nodded.

“Praying—or a prayer—in many religions, myths, and legends connects man to Heaven, to God, or to the divine in general, allowing them to speak at any time.”

“…That’s not an invitation.”

“Sounds like one to me.” He smiled, then frowned. “Wait, that came out weird. Forget that.”

I let out a small laugh.

I knew what he was doing, of course, but I played along anyway.

“If someone tells you that you can talk to them anytime, they probably mean a text message, a phone call, or even a letter,” I explained as I approached him. “Not that you can climb through their window at three in the morning.”

“It’s not even noon yet.” He pulled up the stream clock. “And then the explanation should be more precise.”

[11:15]

I stared at him for a moment. He held my gaze calmly, but I could feel the amusement leaking from him through our connection, and the corners of his lips twitched slightly, almost forming a smile.

I had noticed it, but ever since the creation—or, as Devas called it, birth—of the Shadow Puppet, his emotions seemed far more apparent.

He laughed when he was amused, showed anger when he was irritated. Things he used to hide were now much more visible.

And I still wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad one, because it didn’t even seem conscious on his part.

When he had said earlier that he smiled gently but had actually given a predatory grin, it wasn’t that he was lying; he genuinely seemed to believe it.

To him, it truly must have been a gentle smile, and somehow he believed that internally, without realizing what he was actually showing.

What he felt seemed different from what his body displayed.

I shook my head and didn’t press the “invasion” topic further. Devas was just being childish by denying it.

I stepped closer until our bodies were almost touching and lifted his chin. I glanced at his neck before running my fingers along it. Everything seemed normal.

“Since when can you speak so many languages?” I asked. He had the stream title, of course, but what he had done wasn’t because of the title.

“Just under a week ago. It’s a neat trick I can do with the Cálìce.” He shrugged.

I nodded. That made sense. I wouldn’t expect any less from that… thing he had in his blood now.

That Chalice scared me a little…

“How are you?” I asked, turning more serious.

He sighed and stopped playing around as well.

“Physically, I’m fine. My throat just itches a little. Even my headache is mild,” he explained briefly. “My soul is tingling a bit too, because of… I honestly don’t know what to call that energy. It’s kind of an Egregore, but that name’s too ugly, so I’m calling it belief energy for now.”

“What happened when you stepped into the church’s surroundings?” I asked. He didn’t seem surprised that I knew.

“Yes. It’s a byproduct of human faith, but at the same time, it’s not exactly faith. It’s closer to belief—but not quite that either.” He seemed to tangle himself up a little. “It’s kind of hard to explain with words. I’m not even sure I’d call it energy, actually.”

I kept staring at him for a few seconds before closing my eyes and placing my open right palm over his heart. I focused, using our connection to sense that energy.

As Devas had said, it was… confusing.

A simple analogy would be a non-Newtonian fluid poured into a container that’s still being shaken.

At times, it felt solid, offering resistance—almost a pressure against my perception. For some reason, the image of a skeleton came to mind; at other times, it slipped between my senses, soft, indecisive, impossible to grasp.

It was like an idea that could change at any moment. A belief that wasn’t entirely solid.

Devas’s words made sense.

The more I tried to “force” a definition onto it—faith, belief, energy—the more it hardened, turning opaque and rough. But when I relaxed, when I simply felt it, it went back to flowing in an irregular way.

The curious part was that I could tell it was “human” in the most visceral and intimate sense of the word. And yet, for reasons I couldn’t understand, it also wasn’t “human.”

Something so “human” that it ceased to be “human”…

“It’s really confusing…” I murmured, my eyes still closed. Devas was confusing. I complained a little, “We’ve only been in this world for a few hours and you’ve already caused trouble. Wasn’t this world supposed to be for you to relax and recover?”

“I’ll exercise my right to remain silent.”

I huffed, amused, a smile forming on my face as I opened my eyes.

I pulled my hand away from his chest and crossed my arms beneath my breasts, humming thoughtfully to myself.

I paused for a moment.

“Anima Humana.” The words slipped from my lips. “If I had to give it a name. Or just Anima, to simplify.”

I tried to hide the excitement building inside me, but it was useless. I was certain he would notice. Even so, I smiled.

I couldn’t remember another time I had named something. Normally, I simply knew. The information had always been there, but it had never needed a name.

I had never participated in Creation—I only preserved Knowledge.

This was new!

“…Anima.” He murmured. “It makes a certain kind of sense, but…”

A laugh slipped from his lips. Half incredulous, half resigned. His emotions grew muddled for a moment; I couldn’t quite read them.

“It’s a good name,” he said at last.

“…Are you sure?” I asked, slightly hesitant. He simply nodded.

I couldn’t help letting out a small, cheerful squeak.

“Ahem… Nothing happened.” I coughed falsely into my right fist. Devas laughed without commenting.

I could feel my face heating up. It was incredibly rare for me to feel embarrassed, but this time I couldn’t avoid it. I was happy.

I took a few seconds to compose myself.

“I’m still irritated about your recklessness—invading Heaven out of nowhere—”

“Didn’t we already conclude it wasn’t an invasion?”

I ignored him.

“—aren’t you supposed to be acting as the Devil? What kind of Devil goes to paradise to apologize to an angel?”

He fell silent for a brief moment before pointing at me with the finger of his free hand.

“I’m a terrible actor.”

I looked deep into his eyes. He stared back. Then he let out a short laugh.

“…Jokes aside, I really did need to apologize. After my insanity calmed down a bit, I realized what I’d done and felt kind of bad,” he said, tapping the handle of the Slick Cane rhythmically with his fingers.

“Using your house analogy from earlier, I realized I had basically invaded—this time, yes—someone’s home, randomly poked them, sniffed them, and then licked the back of their neck twice.”

His face twisted into something faintly disgusted, as if he had tasted or smelled something unpleasant.

“Saying it out loud makes it even worse.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face, tapping the Slick Cane against the floor. “I’m many horrible things, Jinn: a killer, a monster, a madman, a hypocrite, a sinner. But when I do something wrong and recognize that it was wrong, I’ll apologize for it.”

Silence settled over Proto-A’s cabin after that.

There were things I wanted to say, but strangely, I also didn’t. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it; then opened it slightly again. Every time I did, the words that were about to come out felt unnecessary.

I still remembered the message the stream had sent after he left the church.

[Archetype: The Devil — Synchronization -40%]

In the end, I softly said the only thing that felt right:

“You did well.”

Devas smiled faintly and nodded.

At that moment, several (CHAT) messages began appearing in front of Devas. They rose from blue flames that shed flakes of snow.

I could see the backs of them, so I walked to his side to read.

All of them were from Serafall:

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]That scruffy little dove! I’ll paint her wings neon pink!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]I’ll melt Heaven’s sacred trumpets and make her drink them!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]I’ll crush every arrogant note in that dove’s voice until all that’s left is a miserable hiss echoing through paradise!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]I’ll burn her flesh while I laugh at her screams!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]That empty-headed winged thing! I’ll pluck her feathers one by one and make her eat them so the only taste on her tongue is her own filthy blood!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]Useless celestial creature!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]I’ll rip off her halo, reforge it into a butt plug, shove it up her ass, then hang her from the ceiling and use her as a lamp!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]I’ll squeeze lemon into each of her three big, pure eyes—and any others that pop out if she turns into those weird forms from that dusty book!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]I’ll rip out that little tongue of hers and burn it before tossing it to a stray dog!

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]How does that bitch dare touch something that’s MINE?!

The messages kept appearing, one overlapping another, as dozens and then hundreds rose from the icy blue flames—like a snowstorm made of fire erupting from the ground.

They floated upward until they vanished into Proto-A’s ceiling, as if trying to reach the Heavens.

They became harder and harder to read as the words blurred into random curses and insults that ranged from completely childish to genuinely horrifying.

“Wow…” I heard Devas exclaim. “I never thought I’d see some of these word combinations in my life… I’ve learned several new insults.”

I nodded slowly. Even for me, some of what was written there was new.

“That’s quite a lot of jealousy and anger…” I commented. Even Saya, Devas’s official girlfriend, hadn’t said anything. “I suppose being an angel who licked you has something to do with that rage.”

“You think?” He looked at me, slightly incredulous, before turning his gaze back to the messages. “I think they’ve been piling up since I left the church. There must be at least a few thousand… What the hell?”

At that moment, all the messages merged into a single one and began appearing in front of me instead of Devas.

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]Jinn, lick his face! The same spot that that celestial bitch licked! You’re one of us! Rip the flesh off his face where she licked him and lick over it before it regenerates! Clean the stain that that slut from paradise put on MY HUMAN!

Other messages still seemed on the verge of appearing before the blue flames collapsed into a strange bolt of pure crimson destruction, vanishing along with them in a single instant.

From the destruction that consumed the messages, new words appeared, bleeding in vivid red:

[CrimsonSatan]Ugh… She’s gotten way stronger. I had to put in some effort to reach her before she froze all of Lucifaad solid just by typing nonsense… Damn, Sera, you said you had stabilized your transformation and wouldn’t lose control…

[CrimsonSatan]This is going to generate so much paperwork it’ll go through Grayfia and land right on my desk… Oh, this is showing up in (CHAT). The voice command is still active. Sigh…

[CrimsonSatan]Sorry about that, Devas. Serafall lost her mind for a moment when she saw that angel lick you, but I’ve already contained her. She kind of developed a new transformation earlier that makes her more… unstable, let’s say.

[CrimsonSatan]It’s something new she’s still learning to control. Anything related to sins coming from you—whenever you use Reality 4D—or Hyper Reality 4D now, the name changed, didn’t it?—ends up triggering that transformation.

[CrimsonSatan]She said she could control herself, but it seems she either lied or overestimated herself. Maybe it’s because Reality 4D evolved into Hyper Reality 4D… I don’t know. She’ll be banned from using Hyper Reality 4D for the time being.

[CrimsonSatan]Good thing I was nearby to contain her before something serious happened. I think if I’d taken a little longer, she would have permanently altered the Underworld’s climate… At least Ajuka managed to teleport everyone in the affected area before she committed accidental genocide…

[CrimsonSatan]Fuck, what a headache… Shouldn’t the stream have prevented her from losing control? This is going to be a pain to deal with…

[CrimsonSatan]At least we can spin this as Sera getting angry because she found out one of the original Leviathan’s direct descendants is being held hostage…

[CrimsonSatan]Again, sorry. I’ll take my leave here, I have work to do… Sigh…

The red messages slowly began to fade before disappearing entirely.

I turned to Devas. He was still staring into the air. His face was neutral, but his single eye carried a faintly unsettling glint. He looked away from the empty space and toward me when he noticed I was watching him.

“Is Millia playing with the others?” he asked.

“We’re not going to talk about a Satan having a meltdown because of you?”

“I already have a hell to worry about. Let’s leave that one for later.” He started walking toward the cafeteria. I followed close behind.

“Millia is playing hide-and-seek with the others,” I said, changing the subject. “It’s Wilson’s turn to seek.”

Watching such a diverse group of beings interacting and playing together was quite amusing. I had watched a few rounds; Millia was good at hiding. She would compress herself and hide practically anywhere.

“That’s why they’re scattered all over Proto-A… Well, let them play a bit longer. No rush.” Devas scratched his chin with his left hand.

My gaze drifted up to his face—specifically, to the spot where the angel had licked him.

“If you try to cut my face, I’m putting you in a jar and you’ll be grounded.”

I huffed.

“Did you gain anything from it?” I pointed at his face.

“No.” He shook his head slightly. “I already checked. I thought I might’ve gotten some kind of blessing, but my status is empty. I also checked whether she could use it to track me, but it seems what happened at the church was a one-time thing.”

“If there had been something, at least I could’ve figured out which angel it was. I could only distinguish that she had something tied to the concept of ‘Joy.’”

He paused for a moment, his gaze going slightly unfocused. “Actually, it’s more about preserving ‘Happiness’ and ‘Joy,’ or bringing ‘Joy’ to others.”

I frowned faintly, recalling the names of the angels I knew. I also remembered the glimpse I had seen through Devas’s eyes.

The stream had censored almost everything that happened when Devas ascended to Heaven.

More than one filter had suppressed the images: the protection filter, for the viewers’ safety; the privacy filter, to protect Heaven and that angel; and the Unrevealed Secrets filter, which kept hidden everything Devas wanted concealed from the stream.

The moment Devas began praying, everything had turned into a blur of pixelated, fragmented images, the audio completely muted, and even Hyper Reality 4D had been largely filtered out.

I had only seen what happened because I used my connection with Devas to perceive through his eyes and senses directly, without the stream acting as an intermediary.

“Her appearance doesn’t say much,” I commented. Angels were amorphous and could change form, according to the information I had. If that was the case, a physical description was useless. “But that conceptual description reminds me a bit of Gabriel.”

Devas froze for a split second before quickly recovering and shaking his head in denial.

I narrowed my eyes.

…Strange.

“I thought that too, but I don’t think it is.” His voice came out slightly rougher. “Call it instinct, but I’d recognize it if that angel were Gabriel.”

After saying that, he didn’t elaborate further and fell silent.

I nodded slowly, thoughtful.

Even if angels were, in theory, beings of light and goodness, it was better not to toy with anything “divine.” Gods were capricious—I had experience with the Brothers—and from the stories I’d read from Earth, that seemed to be a constant, not something exclusive to the Brother Gods.

Angels weren’t gods, but it was still better to avoid them.

I hummed for a moment before nodding a second time, this time to myself.

I partially agreed with Serafall.

… I’ll lick his face when he’s distracted.

[…]

I didn’t manage to lick his face.

Devas seemed to be expecting it and dodged every time I tried. Not even when I asked sweetly did he let me.

“You’re cruel…” I pouted.

“And you’re silly.” He laughed, tapping his cane against the floor as he walked. “Want to go buy some things on your own? Our route doesn’t pass many places that sell anything besides toys.”

I shook my head.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, sir. I’ll have Millia to myself too.” I moved quickly, grabbing the small slime off his head and holding her against my chest.

Millia giggled without trying to escape, while Devas smiled.

We were at a mall. After Millia finished playing, we took Proto-A—currently inside the Voidbag—to the nearest shopping center and decided to stroll around to buy a few things, mostly for the little princess.

Devas spoiled her. Anything she pointed at, he simply bought—casually.

He carried a strong girl-dad aura.

We didn’t worry about the people around us; Devas was using his usual trick. The only time anyone interacted with us was when we went to pay.

If not for that, we would have drawn everyone’s attention. Not because I was blue, because Millia was a slime, or because we had a fox, a slightly floating something, a floating coin, and a talking axe following us.

That would have drawn far less attention than the amount of money Devas was spending…

Alright, maybe the ensemble would’ve drawn some attention too. But my point still stood!

Besides the things he bought for Millia and the occasional item I pointed at, he was buying everything that caught his eye.

And just about anything caught his eye.

A witch hat with bananas instead of stars. A water gun shaped like a bunny. A flowerpot shaped like an apple. An “anti-spirit” bell from a children’s party magic shop. A dramatic white mask split in half—one side smiling, the other crying.

A monkey-themed tarot deck. A snow globe with a tiny castle inside. A pink slime-shaped pillow. A toy hammer that went “boing” when you hit something.

A T-shirt printed with a knight holding a pair of scissors named Sir Cumsize.

That last one was a good purchase.

He looked like a child let loose at a fair for the first time in his life—except with enough money to buy the entire fair if he wanted to.

I already knew Devas was a hoarder; everyone did, really. He more or less grabbed almost everything he touched and tossed it into the Voidbag. But this time, he looked genuinely as delighted as Millia while doing it.

It was, honestly, incredibly cute.

After a few hours of shopping, we headed to the mall’s food court. Devas went to pick up the orders while I stayed at the table with the rest of Millia’s group. The little slime went with him.

I took the opportunity to scroll through (CHAT) and check everyone’s weekly roulette rewards. The roulette had reset a few hours ago, so the prize traffic had already slowed down.

[Monument has received a Medal: “Slime (Black)”!][ItsDragonking has received a Medal: “Demon Eye”!][(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy has received a Nickname Color Change: “Red”!][FanBase has received a Random Emote: “Shadow Puppet thumbs up (6 months)”!][ArchOfSeasons has received a Random Emote: “EXPLOSION!!! (Nuke)”!][Traveling_Wanderer has received a Free Entry Ticket to the Memory Room!][TheKingofNothing has received a Medal: “Hallucination (Shadow Watcher)”!][P.E.N.N.Y has received 300,000 SP!][AinzOoalGown has received a Medal: “Mother Slime (Unique!)”!][Neopolitan has received a Custom Emote!][Dragonman009 has received a Random Emote: “Deerclops Cry (Unique)”!][ExplosionCrimsonDemon has received a Free Entry Ticket to the Memory Room!][LordArchivist has received a Profile Frame: “Sands of Shahrabad”!][(MOD)RedHuntressLive has received a Random Emote: “Slime (Yellow)”!][MoonPrincess has received a Medal: “Drippler”!][PumkinKnight has received a Nickname Color Change: “Pumpkin Orange”!][Thecrownedclown has received a Medal: “Blood Rivers (1 Months)”!]

“Two Unique rewards?…” I murmured.

That was rare. Last week, the only one who had received a Unique reward was Ozma.

Ainz was immediately “attacked” the moment the rarity of his medal was revealed—both by Stark and by MoonPrincess, who seemed to enjoy collecting things as well.

Serafall, another collector, hadn’t shown up, so she was probably still out of commission after what happened earlier.

Ainz’s response to the purchase attempts was basically a middle finger and a declaration that he would never sell an exclusive item.

As for the owner of the “Deerclops Cry (Unique)” emote—a tiny Deerclops that let out a screech which scrambled nearby (CHAT) messages for a few seconds—he didn’t say anything.

I’ll tell Devas about that later. Maybe he’ll want to buy the emote.

As for me, my reward was:

[(MOD)JinnOfTheLamp has received a Profile Frame: “Forest”!]

Nothing rare, but at least my profile looked cuter now.

Devas and Millia returned a few minutes later, him carrying four trays of McDonald's—one in his right hand and the other three held up by black hands made of nightmare energy. His left hand held his phone to his ear.

He hung up when he reached the table and tossed the phone into the air, where it vanished.

“Who was it?” I picked up one of the burgers and examined it for a moment.

It was junk food, but it had been a while since Devas ate anything, and I wanted to try it too. Millia was already dissolving one. It was somewhat strange to watch her eat.

Wilson and Flig were surprisingly well-mannered as well, both eating silently and without making a mess.

I might’ve been a little concerned about them eating something like this, but given that they were mostly magical creatures and anchored to Devas, I doubted junk food posed any danger to them.

The coin sat on the table doing nothing, while Lucy hummed a random, delirious tune under her "breath".

“Dylan. I asked him about the man I made a pact with in Terraria…” Devas replied, unwrapping a burger and taking a bite. “Just as shitty—or worse—than I remember.” He spoke between bites and swallowed. He didn’t seem particularly bothered.

“The guy hasn’t melted, exploded, or gone insane yet. Alalia said he’s normal. They tested him by forcing him to lie and he didn’t die, so the pact probably went inactive, since one of the Chalice’s pact slots is still occupied.”

“Something to keep in mind, then. If the pact had been dissolved, that’d be one thing. But since it was only deactivated and the slot’s still taken, you’ll need to manage them and remember which world each pact belongs to.” I offered my two cents before biting into my own burger.

It tasted about how I expected. Like junk food from Remnant, honestly. Cheap food is cheap food, no matter the world.

But it was good. And it was a nice experience simply eating with Devas and Millia.

Come to think of it… could this be considered a date? Hm…

“Stark was complaining that you still haven’t opened the Memory Room,” I commented, recalling his message.

Devas scoffed and grabbed another burger. He ate fast.

“If I’m here to rest, everyone is. I don’t want anyone killing themselves against ‘The Eye,’ Deerclops, or in Jille while I’ve got nothing to do.”

A message came flying in on a rocket, but Devas flicked it away before it could fully appear, sending the rocket spiraling off and exploding midair.

I laughed.

“Invading Heaven doesn’t count as—”

“I didn’t invade. I went as a guest.”

“…Right.”

After we finished eating, Devas dropped the trays at the disposal station and we left the mall.

Millia had fallen asleep; it was getting late and the little slime had spent a lot of energy. With her asleep, Devas basically forced everyone else to do the same, leaving only Lucy and Wilson outside the Voidbag.

Lucy because she didn’t like the Voidbag—it was dark, and she didn’t like the dark.

Wilson because I claimed the fox for myself, holding him against my chest while he slept.

While we were aboard Proto-A, Devas mentioned he wanted to go to the beach to collect some seawater and sand for some reason. Probably for his collection.

His phone rang.

He put it on speaker when he saw who it was.

“Good evening, Mr. Jovonovich. May I call you that, or would you prefer Mr. Wick? To what do I owe the pleasure of this call on such a pleasant night?” he said in a smooth, velvety tone.

The change in Devas was immediate.

Not just in his voice, but in the way he carried himself overall. He seemed to gain an extra presence; his gaze took on a lazy air, as if everything around him were merely entertainment. His voice became steady, almost monotone—nearly inhuman.

“I should inform you that the phone is on speaker. If you wish to say something meant only for my ears, let me know and I’ll adjust,” he added calmly.

There was silence on the other end for about ten seconds before the voice of John Wick responded:

“Mr. Wick is fine. I don’t mind the speaker.” The reply was practical. “Everything happened exactly as you wrote on the paper.”

“Of course it did, Mr. Wick. I watched it happen.” Devas smiled faintly, even though the man on the other end couldn’t see it. “But not everything has happened yet. You have a few hours before they invade your house.”

“You’re going to kill them,” Devas concluded simply.

It wasn’t a question.

“I will. If they dare enter, they’ll die.” The response was just as straightforward.

“But you don’t want to.” Devas began pacing across Proto-A’s command room, stopping near the window. “Or rather, you don’t want to draw attention — and this will draw attention.”

“Iosef Tarasov is Viggo Tarasov’s son,” the voice on the other end stated.

“The father will want revenge.”

“And he’ll send hundreds of men to their deaths.” John agreed with Devas’s words. “I have no desire to jeopardize the quiet life I currently have.”

“And that brings us to why you called the number on that little black card I left at your house.” Devas seemed able to carry his smile through his voice. “Tell me, what is it you want, Mr. Wick?”

The other end of the line fell silent again. This time, the silence stretched longer.

Ten seconds became a minute. A minute became two, then three.

Devas seemed perfectly content to wait, not moving a single muscle. He looked as though he had turned into a statue.

No.

A painting.

Impeccable suit. Left hand holding the phone close to his face. Right hand gripping the Slick Cane. His expression frozen in a lazy smile; his single eye fixed on the horizon as it steadily darkened.

“What are you?” The words came from the other end of the line.

“You didn’t call me just because you wanted something,” Devas ignored the question. “You’re curious.”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Do you want the entertaining answer, or the true one?”

The silence didn’t last long this time.

“What’s the price for keeping my peace?” John ignored the counterquestion.

A soft hum slipped from the man standing by the window. It echoed faintly, like something heard underwater.

“Nothing.” The answer was simple. “I’ll take care of Iosef Tarasov. You may keep your retirement, Mr. Wick.”

Another pause.

“Бесплатный сыр бывает только в мышеловке.”

“True.” Devas agreed with the proverb. “But you’re not a mouse. Nor have I set a trap. Or do you think I would need one?”

“…Let’s say I believe that. What do you gain from this?”

Another soft hum echoed, this one reminiscent of distant bells.

“I made a… let’s call it a ‘wager’ with the ‘being’ who brought me into this world.” The lazy smile turned more amused. “You are the subject of that wager. If you come out of retirement tonight, I lose. If you stay retired, I win. Simple as that.”

The other end of the line went quiet.

“God and the Devil are using me as a bet? I’m flattered.”

Devas let out a loud laugh.

“How arrogant of you to think yourself worthy of ‘God’s’ direct attention.” His tone was strangely proud. “Your answer, Mr. Wick? Would you like me to handle Iosef Tarasov for you?”

Silence filled the room again.

I merely watched, not interfering even once.

“May I ask two questions first?” John’s tone shifted.

Where it had once been tense, clinical, and dry, now there was something else in it.

Something almost… hopeful.

“You may. I don’t promise I’ll answer.”

Silence.

One second. Two. Three.

“Heaven and Hell… do they really exist?”

The smile vanished from Devas’s face.

His expression turned somber. The playful air died. The “Devil’s” mask dissolved like a feverish hallucination.

“Yes.”

The line went mute.

“Is she… is she in Heaven?” The voice came weak. Broken.

This time, it was Devas who remained silent.

The superior presence disappeared completely. What remained was just him.

Just Devas.

He sighed.

“I don’t hold authority over Heaven to know that kind of information, John.” His voice was strangely gentle. “And not every soul that goes to Hell passes through me. The number I’ve personally sent there is small.”

Once more — and for the last time — silence overtook the call.

“What’s the price for me to know where she is?” John’s voice shifted again.

There was steel in it.

It reminded me of Ozma. It reminded me of Devas.

“A favor,” Devas replied. “You will owe me a favor. Not today. Not tomorrow. But when I bring you the information. A favor that will not demand your life or force you to betray your principles.”

He paused briefly.

“Do you accept?”

And then he added:

“But first, I must ask you something, John.”

Silence.

“If Helen Wick is in Hell… what price would you pay to take her out of it?”

The answer was immediate.

“I would kill. I would destroy. I would die.” Three declarations. “To take her out of Hell, you would have my soul, if necessary.”

The smile returned to Devas’s face.

Not the lazy smile.

Not the theatrical one.

A genuine smile. Almost proud.

Like a father hearing exactly what he had hoped to hear.

“Your answer, John?”

“Yes.”

[Archetype: The Devil — Synchronization +0%]

[...]---[...]

I wrote this chapter to show how someone who knows Devas sees Devas.

Of course, that’s been shown before. But I wanted to focus on it after the changes he’s gone through. To show how a third party sees him — not a stranger, but someone familiar. And right now, Jinn is the person who, within the story, knows Devas the most. Even so, she can still misinterpret him or fail to understand him entirely.

Most of the POV is from Devas, and as I hope I’ve made clear, he’s a highly unreliable narrator in many ways.

As for John, he’ll be back in the future. I really like his character and plan to make good use of him.

Speaking of which, some things have already happened over on my (P)(A)(T)—about three chapters ago, actually.

Well, I think that’s it. Good night, and enjoy the read!

PS: No, the +0% wasn’t a typo. It has a meaning — one I’ll leave for you to figure out.