Japan, Ermengardis Headquarter, February 28, 2004, 2:30AM (Feb. 27, 5:30 PM, GMT +9:00)

“I couldn’t find anything about Onimura… It’s just as if this place doesn’t exist… I managed to calculate their possible position by crossing data of their navigation system, and the itinerary they indicated to Marine before leaving Narita Airport…” explained James, while he was putting a map on the central table.

All the people present in the room came closer to the table, looking at the map in search of the answer to this terrible question: “Where are our missing friends”.

Only Sion had split from the group, sat on a chair close to the window. He was throwing from time to time suspicious glance to James. His strange behaviour had last since the arrival of the Great Master of Ermengardis in the leaving room. Dohko asked him twice what was wrong, but Sion had remained silent.

James pointed the position of Narita airport:

“They left the airport at 8:30 PM. They took the motorway, then the road to Utsunomiya, around 10:30 PM. Weather was quite bad at that time: heavy rain with snow from time to time… They had certainly to drive slowly, no more than 80km/hours… They should be on this area…”

The finger of James described a circle of three centimetres of diameter, including a zone of timbered mountain, a hundred kilometres away from the headquarter.

“That represents thousands of square meters to cover…” sighed Sorrento.

“And with this weather, it's impossible for the helicopters to flight a too long time. And it will take hours and hours to cover a so big area!” added Thetis.

“Isn’t there another way to locate them?” asked Milo, whose anguish was going up every minutes.

“What are you thinking about?” asked James, interested.

“I don’t know... Use satellites?” he suggested, just before thinking he hardly knew what a satellite was.

“Unfortunately, clouds are too thick for that...” James answered, shaking his head negatively.

Aphrodite was deep in his thought, trying to find a solution that could help his three friends, when his glance stared on a tall young man, dressed in a beige costume, and who was smiling at him.

Garn! Oh, no, this vision started again! thought Aphrodite, unable to repress a shiver of fright.  He turned his head in another direction, and found himself face to face with the laughing eyes of Garn.

“Don’t be afraid, Aphrodite, I am not here to frighten you, but to help you.”

The voice of Garn was reassuring. Aphrodite finally dared to raise the eyes on him; the face of the apparition was exactly the same as him, except it was free of any scare. Garn had appeared to him, looking exactly like he was a few minutes before his death.

“Okay…” murmured Aphrodite.

“Thank you for your trust, Aphrodite. Now, listen to me. I know where your friends are, and I will indicate it on this map. But I need you to explain it to your friends, okay?”

Aphrodite nodded silently. Garn addressed him a gentle smile.

“Now, go to the table… We need the map…”

Aphrodite walked towards the table, and split the circle, pushing slightly Aiolia and Mu.

“Aphrodite, what are you doing?” asked Mu, a little surprised.

Without answering this question, Aphrodite stopped in front of the table. One of the pencils started to quiver, then rose slowly and stopped when it came to the vertical.

Cries of astonishment crossed the assistance. Even James opened round eyes in front of the phenomenon.

Then the pencil moved towards the line, set out again behind, and moved on the left, drawing a cross on the map.

Aphrodite pointed the mark.

“There...  It’s where they are… Eighty kilometres out of town of Minakami, going south, close to a mountain road, number 436. There is a road going in the forest, which is not indicated in any map, because it’s almost impossible to run on it. It is at the end of this road that there is Onimura...”

“Aphrodite, what are you talking about...?” murmured Dohko, looking at him, amazed.

“This village is composed of 4 pavilions, describing a square, with a central place on its middle…”

Aphrodite felt all the glances focusing on him and stopped, flustered.

“Aphrodite, don’t stop... We’re in hurry! ... The Inhabitants of these houses...” continued Garn, throwing a smile to him.

Aphrodite blinked eyes. The scene was looking so incredible: the young man, perfect reflection of him, was standing here, in the middle of all the others, surrounded by a diffuse light. And nobody, except him, could see him…

“... The inhabitants of these pavilions are demons of the night or of the nightmares. They are succubus, incubus, gifted with very developed psychic capacities, able to create illusions drawn from the memories of their victims. Currently, our friends had already faced those demons, but fortunately, they managed to push them back. They’re now trying to escape by the roofs. Thus, our help will be efficient only if it comes from the sky.”

Aphrodite stopped, almost exhausted by this long explanation, and still flustered by all the glances that were staring at him, with the same expression of incredulity.

“Aphrodite, how do you know that? And... How did you do that?” asked James.

Aphrodite twisted his mouth, obviously hesitating to answer.

“It’s not me, it’s Garn...” he murmured, lowering his eyes.

Japan, Village of Onimura, February 28, 2004, 2:30 AM (Feb. 27, 5:30 PM, GMT +9:00)

Eastern Pavilion

Angelo ran in the direction indicated by Lorenzo until he was gasping to breath. He had insisted so that Angelo crosses the Eastern Pavilion, before going up on the roof.

He arrived at the third floor, and stopped when he saw Ambre in the arms of Camus. His first reflex was to move back, in order to let the two lovers in their privacy. Then another idea rose in his mind, and it looked very obvious to him that one of them was a demon. But who? If he wasn't wrong, Ambre had gone to this building, while Camus had been sent to the Northern building. So it should be Camus the demon. But in another hand, the demons of those pavilions were very convincing as women. And he was here to testify of it. It was also possible that Camus was at this moment the prey of one of those terrible creatures.

Angelo decided that it was time to stop hesitating and act.

“Hello you two! You’re very busy, as far I can see!” he exclaimed, walking hurriedly in their direction, and firmly holding his sword in his hand.

The two lovers stopped their kiss. Camus threw a furious glance to Angelo, showing him two yellow gleams. Angelo leaped on Camus, and on a precise gesture, cut his head off.

The head and the body felt heavily on the ground. Ambre howled, moving back against the wall, and carried her hands on her face, spattered with a black blood.

“Ambre... I am sorry, there wasn’t any other solution... It’s not Camus... It was a demon.”

Angelo took Ambre by her shoulders, and tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him back violently.

“Easy! Easy Ambre... Look, it’s not Camus...” Angelo repeated, trying to be as reassuring as he could.

Amber slipped a glance to the body at her feet, and felt almost relieved to see that the skin had turned to green. Then she felt a kind nausea going up on her throat. How could she had kissed this thing!

Angelo saw she was to feel sick, and seized her wrist, pulling her in the staircase leading to the upper floors.

“We have to go to the roof! No time to lose anymore here!” he shouted.

Western Pavilion

Shura broke the shutter that blocked the window of a vigorous kick, opening an exit to the small balcony. A hot muggy rain struck him in the face.

He came up to the edge of the balcony, and observed the roof. If he perched on the guardrail, he would have no difficulty to climb on the roof, which covered a part of the balcony. Without hesitation, he climbed on the edge of the balcony and clutched a gutter, which squeaked under his weight.

The roof was sliding, but thanks to the enormous tiles, which looked like pavement, he managed to keep his balance and walked carefully. Shura remembered suddenly the words of Armando: “Go up on the roof, and walked to the Northern Pavilion. It’s there that you will find your friends.”

Shura swept a glance to the landscape around him:  the roofs of the four Pavilions were spread out, like grey plains swept by a storm. He walked in the direction of the Northern Pavilion, and made out a silhouette that was standing there. He carried his hands in front of his eyes, trying to protect them from the rain.

There was no doubt: somebody was standing overthere, waiting something.

The hand of Shura grabbed more firmly his sword. Was it a friend or an enemy? Whatever the answer was, he had to go on this roof… He stopped hesitating and walked in the direction of the silhouette, trying to make no noise. Arrived at the edge of the roof of the Western Pavilion, he jumped silently on the roof of the Northern house, which was next to it.

The creature or the man kept still, his hair agitated by the wind.

Shura came up to him and stop a few meters of him. Suddenly, the man turned around, handling a sword, obviously ready to fight.

“Camus!”

“Shura!”

The two men faced, in position of attack, looking at each other with disbelief. Then a smile came up on their faces.

“Happy to see you again, Shura!”

“Same thing for you! Answered Shura, puzzled. How did you know that we would meet there?”

Camus looked obviously a bit at lost with what to answer.

“Well, it’s Gabriel who told me to come here.”

Japan, Ermengardis Headquarter, February 28, 2004, 2:38 AM (Feb. 27, 5:38 PM, GMT +9:00)

Around the table, the emotion had reached its higher level. Whispers and exclamations were ringing on all sides. Aphrodite was still standing in front of the table, staring at the map, like if he was afraid to raise his eyes and meet the glance of somebody. At this moment, he was sincerely wondering if he had become crazy.

James was also looking at him, trying to decipher on his face any sign that could help him to confirm or invalidate his explanations. More and more whispers of incomprehension and distress came up to his hears. He thought that it was time for him to take a decision.

“Very interesting... Let’s stop arguing... Sorrento!” he called.

“Yes, Master?”

“I want that two helicopters take off in half an hour, bounding to Onimura...  Go and wake up Tomoki Ono and Bill Phelps...

They are our two best pilots... I am sure that even a cyclone wouldn’t stop them to flight!”

The tone of James wasn't allowing any opposition. Nobody dared to slip a word, or to comment that outside the storm was raging.

“I am going right now!” agreed Sorrento.

He left the place in haste.

“Great Master, let me go there too!”

Milo had walked to James, his face begging the authorisation to take part of the rescue team.

“Out of question, none among you will go anywhere... It’s enough that three of you are lost in the nature! No need to add more lost souls.”

“But...”

“I said “no”, Scorpio Milo!

The voice of James was now peremptory, almost aggressive. Milo had never been a man who moved back in front of a threat. However, he moved back in front of the Great Master, seized by a sudden and indefinable fear. On his side, his companions acted the same way.

James through a terrible glance to them, so intense that it was almost unbearable.

“And this applies to all of you! Marine, stay here with them, and make sure that they will stay confine in their districts until the return of their companions. Thetis! You and Sorrento will go on board of the rescue helicopters. Make your best to bring us back our “shipwrecked” men as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Great Master!” answered Thetis, nodding her approval.

“Yes, Sir !” said Marine, bowing respectfully.

James turned around to the former knights of the sanctuary who were looking at him, impressed by the strength that was emanating from him.

“My lords, I have to leave you now... But we’ll see again very soon...”

Japan, Village of Onimura, February 28, 2004, 2:50 AM (Feb. 27, 5:50 PM, GMT +9:00)

Rain had gotten even fiercer. Camus and Shura were completely soaked, and could hardly make the landscape around them. They had seen a few minutes earlier the roof of the Benz sinking in the waterlogged clay of the central courtyard.

“You believe that they will come?” asked Shura.

“I am certain! Lorenzo will have guided Angelo... First to Ambre, then to this place...”

“Is it Gabriel who told you that?”

Camus smiled:

“Just like Armando told you too, did he?”

“Yeah... Armando told me the same thing. It looks like our “ghosts” communicate a lot...”

“Yes, it looks like...”

Camus turned his glance in the direction of the Western Pavilion. He mentally prayed to see the face of Angelo and Ambre again. If he had known that things would go so badly, he wouldn’t have let his dream take on reality, keeping him in his own world. In his coldness.

“Look!” shouted Shura, pointing two silhouettes who were running on the roof.

Camus blinked eyes, and made out two shapes coming fast to their direction. A flash struck down a tree on the hill, which took fire in sheaves of flashes. Thanks to this light, Camus recognized the face of Angelo, then the red hair of Ambre.
Alive, they were alive!

Shura and Camus ran to their companions. Shura hugged vigorously Angelo, who showed him the same happiness to see him again. Camus looked at Ambre, whose face was covered with blood, and who seemed to avoid his glance. He hesitated, and then finally took her in his arms, feeling so much relieved she was alive. But to his surprise, Ambre pushed him back firmly.

“Camus, I will explain you later. Give her a break...” said Angelo, seeing Camus a little downcast, ready to follow the young woman.

Amber came to the hedge of the roof, obviously searching something in the darkness of the rain.

“Where is the car?”

“Disappeared in the mud...” answered Shura, trying to dry a part of the rain streaming on his face.

“Great! How do we leave that hell now?!” groaned Ambre.

She drew her portable from the pocket of her jean, and a dialled a code.

Let‘s hope that the sonars of Ermengardis are on... Or we’re going to have big, big problems! she thought.

An enormous tremor stopped her in her thoughts.

Greece, Terrestrial Sanctuary, February 27, 2004, 8:00 PM (Feb. 27, 6:00 PM, GMT +9:00)

Ishara was strolling around the wide garden, gathering here and there a rose, or an eyelet. She was tightening against her chest a bunch of colourful flowers.

She stopped in front of a splendid clump of pink roses, and pushed a small cry of joy looking at the delicate flowers. She whirled in front of the clump, outlining a dance, and finished by a gracious reverence.

“Do you allow me to pick some of your splendid flowers, Mister the rose tree?” she asked in a smile.

She seized a branch, and twisted it to cut it, trying to avoid being pricked by the spines.  

“What are you doing here? I don’t allow visitors to come here!” she heard a male voice coming from behind her.

Ishara turned around, and dropped by surprise the flowers of her precious bouquet. Between confusion and fear, she bent down to gather the flowers scattered in front of her. She raised the head, slightly frightened, as she had recognized the man, or rather the divine reincarnation who was standing in front of her.

Apollo threw her a severe glance. He was squeezed in a long red tunic, embroidered with gold ornaments. He was standing up straight, holding his hands in the back.

“Vampire, I asked you a question! Answer me!” insisted Apollo, much more aggressive.

“O God Apollo, I didn’t realize that I was entering your temple... Please forgive my lack of attention… I was just gathering flowers for Amalric... Because, you know, he liked flowers, I remember it.”

Ishara smiled sadly, and then dropped her head in a whisper. She knitted and collected with haste the scattered flowers.

“Can I leave your temple now?” She asked with fear, standing up again.

Apollo was surprised by the expression of Ishara. The vampire looked at him with an expression mixing respect and fear. Her large blue-green eyes seemed to question him on what she should do. Was it possible she was afraid of him? Apollo felt a wave of pride submerging him. Whereas a few minutes before, it’s with hesitation that it had decided to apostrophize the creature, fearing a violent reaction. He had recognized her very well, remembering the dark impression that this affected-minded creature had left on him.

He walked to Ishara, standing even more up straight that before, which emphasized his imposing stature.

“I won’t punish you this time... But never come back here without my authorization!” answered Apollo.

Ishara gave him a deep bow and moved back. She slipped a glance to the rose clump, and the splendid flowers of the branch she was giving up.

Apollo caught the glance of the vampire and raised a hand. An invisible blade sliced the half-cut branch, which was hanging down. Instead of falling down, the flowers rose in the airs, and flew in the arms of Ishara, sliping into the bouquet, under the frightened glance of the Vampire.

“You can keep this one...” he added, beckoning her to go away.

Ishara inclined the head and ran away.

Apollo looked at the fine silhouette fleeing in the darkness of the garden.

“I will have to visit Persephone... I don’t like that these creatures walk freely in the Sanctuary…”

He saw at his feet a rosebud, fallen from the bouquet of Ishara. He bent down and collected the flower, which had a splendid but rare blue-green colour.

He carried the button to his face and observed the delicate petals, enjoying his intoxicating scent.

“Her eyes… How splendid they are!”
　

Japan, Village of Onimura, February 28, 2004, 3:10 AM (Feb. 27, 6:10 PM, GMT +9:00)

The Pavilion was shaking on its foundations. The tiles were moving at each tremor, slipping slowly out of the roof. But there was not only the Northern pavilion that was cracking: the frames of the three other pavilions were groaning of the same complaint, and the Southern Pavilion had started clearly to sink in the mud, like the car had done before.

“What’s going on?” exclaimed Shura, trying to keep his balance and to stand up.

At his side, Angelo, Camus and Ambre had squatted down, and were trying to cling something so that they don’t slip out of the roof.

“Look! The other pavilions are sinking too!” shouted Angelo.

The mud had swallowed the peristyle of the Southern pavilion, and was licking its windows. The Eastern Pavilion had obviously started the same descent in these muddy marshes. And there was no doubt left on what was to happen to the Pavilion where they were perched.

A new jolt projected Shura against the tiles. He clung of all its forces to the tiles, while Angelo and Camus caught him, one by the arm, the other by the belt, to prevent him from slipping more.

“What do we do now?” asked Camus.

“Praying sounds a good beginning to me?” retorted Angelo, a point of irony in his voice.

“Shut up...” shouted Ambre, raising a hand.

She pricked up her ears, and in the middle of the thunder, steaming of water and cracking sounds, she made out a kind of whirr, very familiar to her...

“A helicopter... A helicopter is coming!” she exclaimed.

“What?”

Camus pricked up his ears too. And indeed, he recognized a rumble similar to the twist of propeller.

A terrible vibration shook the Northern Pavilion, making slip the tiles one by one, and excavating the rafters of the roof structure. From their shelter, the four refugees could hear the pieces of furniture falling and breaking. Walls were cracking in a terrible rumble.

“Hang anything you can! It’s not gonna last a long time!” shouted Ambre, clutching as firmly as she could an apparent
beam of the roof.

Close to her, Camus, Shura and Angelo were doing the same, having trouble to find a stable hold. Noise of the propellers of the helicopter was now very distinct.

“Look! On the right... There are two helicopters!” shouted Shura.

Four pairs of eyes fixed the grey horizon, and made out very clearly the shape of two helicopters flying at sharp pace. A noise of collapse covered suddenly the rumble of the propeller during few seconds. The Eastern Pavilion had just broken down in a crash of beams and stones. The walls and the foundations of the Southern Pavilion yielded at their turn, and a new crash of thunder finally covered the howling of the storm.  

“God, don’t break this Pavilion before the arrival of the rescue...” grumbled Angelo.

In the helicopter, Naoki Ono and Thetis were still under the surprise of what they had been the witnesses. The helicopter had taken off in full snowstorm, and had taken the direction indicated by Aphrodite. The helicopters had flight around fifty kilometres until they had seen one of the most curious weather phenomena that was given to see: on a surface of roughly 10 kilometres of diameter, the clouds, curiously black, were spitting a pouring rain, obviously hot, which was creating a kind of evaporation smoke while getting in touch with the clouds charged with snow, near to zero degrees. In the second helicopter, Sorrento and Bill Phelps were surprised as much.

Bill caught his microphone.

“Naoki, ready to chuck the rope ladder? I’m going first…”

One of the helicopters approached the roof slowly, and maintained its position stationary. A rope ladder felt from the door, while an indistinct voice, almost covered by the rumble of the propellers, shouted to go up.

“Ambre, you go up first!” ordered Shura.

“Out of question... I am here to protect you! I will go up last!” retorted Ambre.

Camus caught her by the wrist and pulled her towards the bottom of the rope. Amber freed herself from the pressure of Camus, and looked him straight in the eyes.

“I said... I will leave last!”

A new crash of collapse resounded. The Western Pavilion had just crashed to its turn.

“Go up! If you don’t go up, I won’t go up neither!” retorted Camus, who had never appeared so determined.

Ambre didn’t dare to protest and started to climb the rope ladder. Camus followed her. He had just put the feet on one of the bars that the helicopter gained gradually altitude, leaving the place to the second helicopter. 

“Our turn!” shouted Shura.

“Go first!” offered Angelo.

Shura had no need to be told twice, and grabbed the scale of the ladder. He put a feet in the first bar, when a curious vibration propagated on the roof.

“It’s breaking down! Shura! Help me!” howled Angelo behind him.

As by reflex, Shura rocked the bust behind, and his left hand seized the hand that Angelo was desperately reaching out. Angelo felt the ground collapsing under his feet, while he was raised in the air.

“Angelo, try to catch the bar, I won’t be able to hold you a long time!” groaned Shura.

Angelo tightened the hand towards the bar. After several unfruitful attempts, he managed to seize the lower bar, then another one. He rose in-top of Shura, and reached out his hand.

“My turn to help you?”

Japan, Ermengardis Headquarter, February 28, 2004, 4:15 AM (Feb. 27, 7h15 PM, GMT +9:00)

All the glances of the ten former gold knights referred to the door of the living room, while they could make indistinct voices coming from the corridor.

Would they have finally arrived, the three missing members of their disappeared order? Their companions in misfortune?

The voices got increasingly distinct.

The throat of Milo was tied. What was he going to say, to make, toward the one he used to consider as his best friend, and even, as his brother?

On his side, the face of Aphrodite was illuminated by a smile growing up every seconds: the other damned knights were coming back, and he wouldn’t be anymore the only “bad guy” here. Not the only one to face the past and the memories of the war against Hades.

The door opened suddenly, driving them out of their thoughts. A young woman, with russet-red hair entered. Her green pullover was covered with blood. Behind her, followed Camus and Shura, and then Angelo, Thetis and Sorrento.

“My God! Ambre but where were you? What had happened?” asked Marine, who had run near the young woman.

“Well, we did like David Vincent1... We took a way we should have never taken!”

“What?!”

“We felt on a village inhabited by demons... We didn’t realize it immediately, and we had to fight to come out from this hell...”

Amber sighed, totally exhausted

Milo looked at the face of Camus with anxiety. Blood spattered his right cheek, his blow and his pullover. And he looked completely exhausted, with his eyes circled of black rings, and a sad expression at the corner of the lips... Milo would have so much liked to take him in him arms, and tell him how much happy he was to see him again, alive. But he couldn’t move, stopped by a strange feeling. The images of the war against Hades came back to his memory. Athena Exclamation… Saga, Shura and Camus, joined together in one entity, launching the terrible attack against Mu, Aiolia and himself, transgressing the rules of Athena.

How could he forgive that to Camus?

Then the images of the suicide of Athena rose from the deep of his memory. It’s at that time that he had understood that the mission of Saga, Shura and Camus was far different from what he had believed.

How could he apologize to Camus for that?

Aiolia was staring at the three men who had just come in. Compassion submerged his heart first: blood was spattering their face and their clothes. And they looked completely exhausted and lost. Why destiny was baited to make them fight? Hadn’t they got the right to live in peace? He thought, looking at the three men who had just entered.

Then images came up to the surface of his memory: Athena Exclamation... Saga, Shura, Camus... Three men who had been ready to do anything, including killing their pairs, in order to bring her armour to their beloved Goddess. Aiolia had admired them, almost as much he had hated them.

His hatred which had never stopped growing since his childhood overcame him suddenly.

Saga... The man who had usurped the identity of the Pope... Who had precipitated the Sanctuary in the War… And who had condemned to death Aiolos...

Shura... The assassin of his brother...

Camus... This puppet with an ice cube instead of his heart, too many frightened of his feelings to dare to show them...

Death Mask... An insane murderer, a man who should have never had the right to be a knight...

Why these four men had been granted the right to come back to life, and not his brother, Aiolos... ?

“You must be exhausted! Come here and sit down!” exclaimed Mu, coming to Camus.

He grabbed him by the wrist and helped him to sit down in a chair, not far from Milo. Dohko and Aldebaran helped Shura and Angelo.

“And you, you’re okay?” asked Marine to Ambre

“I’m fine… And still alive...” murmured the young woman.

Marine looked at her. The green eyes of Amber were reflecting tiredness, and fear. A fear contained until now, but which was re-appeared afterwards. She took Ambre in her arms.

Camus felt a new headache attacking his brain. He carried his hands to his temples with a grin. God, he felt so tired! He raised the eyes, and his glance crossed the eyes of Milo, who was staring at him intensely.

Camus felt a feeling of joy growing in his chest: Milo was in life! However, he lowered the eyes. No smile was posted on his face. No word left his mouth. Too many contradictory feelings were overflowing his heart so that he could say at least a word: Joy and sadness. Fraternal feelings and hatred. Hope and disappointment.

“Everything will be all right now, Camus!”

Camus raised the eyes, surprised to hear this so familiar voice, which he had so often heard in the last hours of his life.
Saga was standing in front of him, holding a glass of water. Camus took it without saying a word, outlining a thank you of the head.

He felt Saga holding a hand on his shoulder, as a sign of encouragement. Then he turned the head around Milo, who had moved away.
 

Shura was completely shattered. By the dreadful night which had just proceeded. By all those familiar faces turning around him. Faces he had believed he would never see again.

Like in a dream, he saw Dohko coming to him.

“Shura! Are you alright?” he asked him.

“Yes… Well... To tell you the truth... I used to feel better...” Shura answered, definitely lost.

“Will put you back on your feet again! Welcome to the "circle of the survivor knights”! ” thundered Aldebaran.

“Yes… Thank you!”

It was all that Shura managed to answer. He felt the accusing glance of Aiolia on him, and emotion and embarrassment seized his throat.

Angelo was rolling round eyes, as if he could catch everything that was happening around him. He finally closed his eyes, trying to regain his calm. When he reopened them, Aphrodite was in front of him, holding a glass of fresh water. Mu was at his sides, a smile on the lips.

“Drink this, Death Mask, it will put you back among us...” ordered Aphrodite.

“Thank you... But please, call me Angelo, now... ”

Aphrodite and Mu looked at each other, first surprised, then amused. Especially by the words « Thank you » and “Please” coming out from the mouth of the ex-first assassin of the Sanctuary, and the more arrogant man they have ever meet in their previous life.

“If you want! Welcome back, Angelo!” said Mu, hiding a smile.

“Thank you!”