The skies above Pentagram City burned with holy fire. The annual Extermination had begun, and angels rained down like divine executioners, their luminous wings slicing through the smog. Demons fled, hid, or fought back in vain. Amidst the chaos, Alastor stood tall, a wide grin plastered on his face, relishing the spectacle.

That was until he caught her.

A streak of silver light weaved through the battlefield, faster than the others—precise, deadly. Unlike the other angels, who slaughtered indiscriminately, she moved with purpose, her strikes calculated. She was not just an angel—she was an exorcist.

Intrigued, Alastor leaped, his shadowy form twisting through the air as he reached for her. The moment his clawed fingers wrapped around her wrist, time seemed to slow. His grin faltered—not from fear, nor pain, but from something far more dangerous.

Fascination.

Her eyes locked onto his—piercing, fierce, and undeniably beautiful. For the first time in his afterlife, Alastor felt his unbeating heart stir. A strange sensation, one he had long forgotten.

“Caught you, my dear~” he cooed, his voice silky, but for once, lacking its usual malice.

She didn’t hesitate. A swift knee to his ribs forced him to release her, and before he could react, she twisted midair, planting a boot squarely against his chest. With a forceful flap of her wings, she propelled herself away, vanishing into the war-torn heavens.

Alastor plummeted, landing in a heap of rubble. For a moment, he simply lay there, stunned. Then, as his mind processed what had just happened, a slow chuckle bubbled up from his throat.

And then he laughed.

A genuine, exhilarated, delighted laugh.

How amusing. How thrilling!

She was different. Special. Dangerous.

And he was already looking forward to the next Extermination.