Kuoh Town, Kanigawa Prefecture, Japan.
157,680,000 seconds ago.
Serafall Leviathan clutched the edge of her seat, her "bittersweet" expression barely holding up against the tide of memories. Ahead of her, the ceremony was already underway. She watched the groom, a young man with messy brown hair, trembling as he waited for his bride. Beside him, the lineup was a chaotic testament to the groom’s strange life: a young blonde man whose beauty was frankly unfair, and… Serafall stifled a giggle… a young dhampir boy trying to look dignified in a bridesmaid’s dress. Even the officiant, a leering old man with an eyepatch, looked like he’d crawled out of a manga about questionable life choices.
Then, the music swelled. The massive doors creaked open, and the bride marched down the aisle, her red hair providing a stark, beautiful contrast to her wholesome gown. Serafall’s heart sank as she saw the procession trailing behind the bride. Not one, not two, but seven other women followed in identical bridal gowns, their expressions a mix of pride and fierce love for the notorious pervert at the altar.
Serafall’s heavy sigh caught her friends’ attention, though they dismissed it as parental melancholy. Her male friend even felt a little sympathy. It was his own baby sister that was getting married after all.
Later that evening, as the reception was starting to die down, Sirzechs joined his friend on a Gremory manor balcony, as she stared sadly into space.
“Sera,” the man's voice was gentle, compassionate, “You've been a ghost this whole wedding. Everyone has been asking about you. Is everything ok?”
Serafall sighed once again, hanging her head pensively as she gripped the balcony railing. After a moment of contemplation the woman answered.
“It's just,” she paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, “It's all over, finally. The treaty has been signed. The chaos brigade is defeated. Even the old satan faction has been shattered. We finally have peace, Sona is running the Sitri clan better than father ever did, and it really looks like everything is going to work out from now on.
“Don't look at me like that,” Serafall chided as he gave her a skeptical look, “I'm fully aware that the next major crisis will probably pop up in a few years and the world will probably be in danger of ending… again… but for the first time in five hundred years… I feel like Sona and Rias won't need my help to handle it.”
“Isn’t this a good thing?” Sirzechs moved in and put his arm over her shoulders for comfort, “The children are finally grown up. The older generation can step aside and let the kids take over. I know it's difficult to accept, but…”
“No, that's not what I mean,” she quickly interrupted and snuggled her head into her friend's protective hold. It was nothing romantic, Sera viewed Sirzechs like an older brother, not a love interest. Besides, Zechs famously had eyes for only one woman, his queen Grayfia, “It's Melania's boy, he's been on my mind a lot lately.”
“The Seere heir?” Sirzechs spoke comfortingly, but a hint of incredulity crept in as he looked down at the small woman tucked into arms, “He vanished four centuries ago, Sera, and no one has heard from him since. He's gone, Sera, the ritual his mother used to help him escape sent him hurtling into the dimensional gap. Akuja confirmed it. There is no way the boy could survive the void between worlds.
“It was one of the many tragedies of that war. I understand how you feel. I know you loved the boy’s mother, but it’s long past time to let it go. Maybe you should think about dating again… I won't ask you to find a man, you get enough of that from your parents, but maybe find another girlfriend…”
“You don't understand Zechs,” Sera shook her head quickly, “I can still feel him. I know he's alive. I've always known.
“Mel wasn't just a brilliant magical researcher. Her entire family could do things with magic that haven't been replicated since. When she made me his godmother, she made sure I could always tell if he was in danger. For centuries the link has been dormant, like he was sleeping, but about six months ago I started feeling something through the bond. He's waking up, and I can feel him.”
“Sera, even if what you say is true, he's already passed out of your reach. The gap between worlds is not something beings like us can traverse.”
“No, Akuja thinks he can replicate the ritual that Mel used, including the mistake that sent him into the gap. I can navigate the void, even if the distances are immense. I can find him, Zechs. It might take me a few centuries, but it doesn't matter. He's all I have left of her Zechs.”
“You’re dead set on this, aren't you Sera?”
Serafall remained silent, her tears soaking his jacket.
“When will you leave?”
“Tomorrow. I've already spoken to Sona, and we just finished filming the series finale last week. Akuja has everything he needs for the ritual, so there is nothing keeping me here.”
The red haired man didn't answer, he just pulled his petite friend in closer and held her to his chest, sighing as he gave her a small squeeze. For a long while only the woman’s sobbing and the man’s consoling murmurs broke the silence.
Nowhere
Time has no meaning. A long time ago. Sometime far in the future. Right now.
A handsome young man on the cusp of adulthood drifted through a shapeless, formless void. Time had long since lost its meaning in this place. What is the point of time when nothing changes? At first the boy’s mind panicked. He lived as a mortal, or at least mostly mortal. Devils had lifespans that might as well be infinite, or were at least was effectively so, as no Devil had ever died of old age as far as he knew; but food, water, oxygen… these were all things that no mortal being could go without.
Or at least that's what he thought. Minutes passed, the boy knew because he started counting once the initial panic died down, and he felt no shortness of breath. No telltale pain of his chest contracting. He couldn't even feel his chest rise and fall with his breath.
Days passed, each second counted out by the boy to control his ever present fear, and he felt no thirst. Weeks passed, meticulously counted in the same way as the days, and no hunger pangs erupted. Something unknown was sustaining him. That left isolation and sensory deprivation as his primary concerns. The boy knew that minds in isolation tended to go mad. This wasn't limited to humans, devils were social creatures as well.
He initially started counting as a way to fight his rising panic, and to understand how long he'd been stuck in this void. At first the counting was the sole tool used to preserve his sanity. Eventually, the counting replaced his sanity altogether.
At one million seconds desperation kept him counting, almost as a silent prayer to keep his mind from shattering under the weight of his isolation. At ten million seconds, he was counting to keep away the intrusive thoughts, the thoughts threatening to tear his mind apart. At one billion seconds, the thoughts faded, replaced entirely by the string of numbers being recited one after the other.
Time passed. Not marked by the hours and events of the day. Not marked by the seasons that passed during the year. Not marked by the years passing as the young man grew into a mature adult.
No, time passed as a relentless string of seconds counted into the void. Purposeless and meaningless, more like a force of nature than a conscious decision.
Gregory Seere, heir to one of the 72 pillars of devil society, son of Melania Seere, faded away, replaced entirely by a slowly increasing set of numbers. At some point, Gregory Seere ceased to exist, twenty years of life buried under the weight of centuries of counting.
Somewhere around the 13 billion mark, give or take a few million seconds, something broke the count.
Sensation.
Something rough and warm grasped a hand that Gregory had long since forgotten. Two seconds later Gregory felt the sensation of being pulled by the hand. For the first time in roughly 13 billion seconds, Gregory felt the pull of inertia. Another three seconds passed, and suddenly his senses roared to life.
Weight registered first. For the entire time Gregory was in the void he was weightless. There was no pressure or weight, nothing for his inner ear to lock onto and give him direction. Now, suddenly, Gravity took hold of him. It took him nearly eight hundred seconds to come to terms with weight. If he had a lunch to lose, he was sure it'd be all over the ground by then.
After weight, the sensation of Light blinded Gregory, bright colors that he couldn't understand. Even when he shut the lids on eyes he'd forgotten even existed, there was a warm reddish glow behind his eyelids. Even darkness was a novel thing, as there was no such thing as darkness in the place where he had been. He didn’t count the seconds that it took him to come to terms with the visual stimulation, as he was too busy dealing with his weight problems at the time, and he’d dealt with vision long before the nausea ended.
After weight and sight, he registered air rushing into his lungs. He felt the slow thump of his heart in his chest. He could feel the sensation of cloth on the seat below him. The gentle rush of air crawled across his skin from a noisy ceiling fan somewhere above him. A quiet ring of mild tinnitus that he'd never noticed in his prior life began singing in his ears.
Sixty five seconds after the spinning in his head stopped, the sound of an older man's voice intruded on his thoughts, completely interrupting the counting. The voice was comforting, raspy but soothing, with the telltale hints of a New York accent.
“Hey kid, take your time,” the voice was calm, and a firm hand pressed his shoulder in a comforting manner, “You've been through quite a bit. Take as long as you need to process.”
Two thousand seconds later, the man’s firm grip squeezed his shoulder, conveying warmth and sympathy.
Nine hundred seconds later, Gregory shuddered, tears rolling down his face.
Three hundred seconds after that, Gregory buried his face in his hands and started openly sobbing. The man's grip grew firmer, calm washed over the boy.
The counting stopped. The feel of the hand left, and footsteps were heard, followed by the creak of weight settling on to an old chair. As the counting faded, Gregory started to return. Eyes that were shut tight in confusion, struggling to process the new sensations, slowly opened.
The boy was sitting in a small room, a modern studio apartment, and his mind lurched at the unfamiliar surroundings. The room had a small attached kitchen, a loft bed in the wall, and a small couch that Gregory was occupying. There was a small bathroom with an open door off to the side.
Across the room was a small television, one of the older tube types. Against the far wall was a massive poster window, framing the view of a modern city skyline. In front of the poster window was a large art desk with comic book pages piled haphazardly across its surface. Sitting at the desk was a thin, older human man in his 80's or 90's, wearing a sweater vest, a pair of corduroy slacks, and a button up dress shirt with the top button opened. His shoes lay discarded under the desk, a heavily worn pair of leather penny loafers that looked well loved.
The man had a distinctive and disarming face. He had the grey hair typical of a man his age, bushy eyebrows, a face with deep lines that spoke to the decades he'd been around, a thick, bushy mustache that did nothing to hide the broad and comforting smile he was sporting.
But the man's most distinctive feature was a pair of the kindest eyes Gregory had ever encountered. Eyes that evoked memories of being held in his grandfather's arms as a child, long before the war had taken the man from him. Even the thick shaded glasses the man wore couldn't hide the kindness and love in those eyes.
“You ok kid?” The man asked, “I was a bit worried there for a minute. Didn't think you'd ever stop counting.”
“Where… where am I?” Gregory stuttered, surprised at a voice he hadn't heard in longer than he could remember, “Who are you?”
“New York City, upper east side to be precise. You can call me whatever you like, my employees always call me the old man. Everyone else calls me by my title, but I never liked it too much. Always seemed kinda pretentious to me.”
“Okay sir. I don’t… know what you're talking about, but…”
“Ah, I wouldn't worry too much about it. It shouldn’t take you too long to get adjusted. You had a rough time of it out there in the gap, going to take you a while to make the transition.”
Gregory sat back on the comfortable leather couch, pulling himself together. The tears had dried up, but they threatened to rise again as he contemplated his situation. The old man didn't press, he just kept that glowing smile and those kind eyes in Gregory's view, a silent rock for him to hang on to in a sea of confusion.
Eventually Gregory sighed, the tears finally retreating for good.
“Thirteen billion seconds,” Gregory finally said, “More than four hundred years. I was in that place for four hundred years.”
The old man nodded, the smile giving way to a solemn expression.
“I don't suppose you know anything about my kind, do you sir?”
“Oh, I know plenty about them. When I found you drifting, I could feel where you came from. Took me a bit, but I was able to check out how things were going back in your world. Void-chan and Aragorn helped a bit too.”
“Great, my mother must be worried sick about me.”
The man's expression fell immediately, and Gregory knew something was wrong.
“Sorry kid. Your mom didn't make it. She sent you off just as her enemies were breaking through the wards of the manor. They… didn't take long to finish the job. Your mom was a dangerous woman, kid. She took quite a few of the bigger fish down with her. Your Aunt Serafall finished the job a few days later. Even if you wanted to do a whole revenge arc, none of her killers lived long enough to take pride in their victory.”
“Mother was always my hero growing up. She kept up with most Ultimate-Class devils without much trouble,” Gregory said as he struggled to keep a fresh batch of tears from rushing out, there would be time to mourn later, “She wouldn't have wanted that for me anyway, ‘revenge doesn’t help anyone,’ she used to say. I hesitate to ask for more than I already received… pulling me out of that place is something I can never possibly repay… but… would you be able to send me home Sir?”
“She was a smart lady. And sorry kid,” the old man solemnly shook his head, “My reach doesn't extend that far. Not my territory. I can take a look, but my actual power doesn’t extend that far. Don't worry though, I have a feeling you will be seeing at least one familiar face soon enough.”
“Thank you sir. So… what comes next?”
“Well, I'm going to get out of your hair, kid. One of my employees is going to take a couple days to help you get up to speed on how things work around here.
“Before I go, however, I have a few gifts for you.”
The old man pulled a small wooden box out of his jacket pocket, and handed it to the boy. Gregory took the box with reverence, and opened the latch on the side. Nestled into carved felt nooks on each side of the box was the half of an intricately carved chess set, carved from ruby red crystal. The left half of the box held seven pieces, two rooks, two knights, two bishops, and a queen. The right half held eight pawn pieces.
“It's beautiful, sir,” Gregory said with awe, feeling the magical potential in the carved pieces, “I can feel the magic in them.”
“To tell you the truth, giving you these is almost more for my own benefit than for yours. I was always a little disappointed by the demons in my multiverse. They always seemed a little too cartoonishly evil. Having a few of your kind around to balance them out is going to do wonders for the place.
“My employee will be here shortly, she'll explain more about these pieces when the time comes. The second thing is this apartment. Feel free to stick around here as long as you like. I have no doubt you'll outgrow it sooner rather than later, but while you're getting your feet under you, it should be a big help. The last thing I have for you is this…”
The old man took an intricately carved, gold plated business card holder out of his jacket, laying it on a coffee table near the couch. Gregory opened the case to reveal the contents. The top card displayed his name, a phrase asking the holder to ‘make a wish’, and a small but intricate summoning circle.
“I think you’ll find that there are enough cards in there for whatever you need. I’m sure you can figure out how to replicate them once your employees need copies of their own, you’re a smart kid.”
“Thank you sir, for everything,” the boy smiled for the first time since he'd arrived in this strange place, and the old man nodded in satisfaction as he moved toward the apartment door. As he neared the door, a knock was heard, and the old man answered. A beautiful red haired woman with a shapely figure and a stern expression entered the apartment.
“This is Fifi, one of my employees,” the old man said as he switched places with the woman, and the look she gave him as he pulled on a battered trenchcoat was pure annoyance, “She's going to help with your orientation here, get you up to speed on how things work around here.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gregory answered as the man readied himself to leave, “Will I see you again anytime soon?”
“Oh, one thing you'll learn about this place,” the old man winked as he stepped into the doorway, and his voice faded as ‘Fifi’ closed the door behind him, “I'm always around when something interesting is going on. Excelsior!”