Grayfia's eyes glittered with icy amusement. "You really think that just because you're not friends, you're not enemies either?"
Tenra met her gaze, unflinching. "Does it matter? Up until now, the God of the Bible hasn't done a single thing to harm me."
He wasn't wrong. In fact, the entity inhabiting Sirzechs's body had, in some twisted way, helped Tenra more than once.
Grayfia's lips curled in a mocking smile. "That's only for now. It doesn't mean he won't, someday."
"Your power lets you seize any Sacred Gear. Just for that, you two can never be friends. You're destined to be enemies."
Tenra frowned. "Why?"
Grayfia leaned in, her voice crisp and cold. "I've searched every record I could find. Your Sacred Gear wasn't created by the God of the Bible, was it? It doesn't exist in any other pantheon's archives, either."
"So where did you get it?"
She didn't answer his question—instead, she asked one of her own. Venelana watched, curiosity written across her face. It was a question many had wondered: Where did Tenra's Sacred Gear come from? Even the God of the Bible couldn't have crafted something so absurdly powerful.
Tenra stayed silent. This was a secret he'd never share. It was the core of his existence.
Grayfia nodded, as if accepting his silence. "Fine. We won't pry."
"But tell me, Tenra—why do you think God placed his Sacred Gears inside human bodies?"
Most believed that God gifted Sacred Gears to humanity so they could fight evil. But that was just human speculation, without a shred of proof. Grayfia's question made Tenra think deeper.
If God truly loved humanity, why go to such lengths? Why not simply grant them blessings, like he did his most devoted followers?
Tenra's mind raced. Suddenly, a spark of realization flashed through him, and his eyes widened.
"Don't tell me…"
Grayfia's smile turned razor-sharp. "Exactly. Whatever you can figure out, do you really think that bastard couldn't?"
Tenra felt a chill run down his spine. Of course—if even he could see it, the God of the Bible, with his infinite cunning, surely had.
Back when Tenra had amassed too many Sacred Gears to train each one, he'd devised a solution: Gear Sharing. He'd let his allies—Rias, Sona, the others—use his Sacred Gears, letting them develop new powers for him. He simply reaped the benefits.
It worked perfectly. He saved time and energy, and every ability the girls unlocked, he gained as well.
If Tenra's theory was right, then the God of the Bible was doing the same—using humans as tools, laborers, to develop his Sacred Gears. Not out of love, but pure exploitation.
Grayfia's voice was relentless. "Now you understand, Tenra. Those Sacred Gears inside humans—even half-bloods—their true master is still the God of the Bible."
"But your power steals them away, rips the Sacred Gears out of his hands. You think he'll ever accept that? You think you could ever be anything but enemies?"
Her words hammered into him. Tenra's eyes turned cold as steel.
He couldn't awaken the Phoenix bloodline. He had no talent for magic. Swordsmanship and spiritual energy—he'd clawed his way up through sheer effort. But at his core, everything came from Sacred Gear Plunder. Without it, he'd never have come this far.
He'd stolen countless Sacred Gears—and he would steal countless more.
Which meant, inevitably, he and the God of the Bible were enemies. There was no other path.
Tenra exhaled slowly, voice low. "Congratulations, Grayfia. You've convinced me."
He'd never wanted to be dragged into this mess. But fate had other plans.
Grayfia's eyes softened a fraction. "Don't think we're just using you. Everything I've said is the truth."
"And if you promise to take our revenge, we'll pay you, too."
Tenra couldn't help but laugh. "Pay me? You two are barely hanging on—what could you possibly offer?"
Venelana's smile glimmered, playful and sultry. "Oh, Tenra, do you really think we have nothing you'd want?"
Just moments ago, she'd been drowning in grief. Now she was radiant, teasing—Tenra couldn't help but marvel at how quickly women could turn the tide.
He shrugged, honest. "That's exactly what I think. What could you possibly offer me?"
Venelana leaned close, her breath warm against his ear. "Our reward is ourselves."
Tenra froze. Did he just hear that right?
"Aunt Venelana, you… you…"
He was genuinely stunned. Even for him, this was almost too much.
Venelana pressed herself against him, her voice a velvet whisper. "Tenra, you've always had your eyes on me and Grayfia, haven't you? Every time you visited, you couldn't help but stare."
Caught red-handed, Tenra's cheeks flushed. "Aunt Venelana, Miss Grayfia—you're both incredible women. It's only natural to admire beauty. Nothing more."
He swallowed, awkward.
Venelana's laughter was soft and knowing. "Just admiration? Is that all?"
She traced his cheek with a gentle hand. "Come on, Tenra. If you promise to avenge us, Grayfia and I will both be yours. We'll be your lovers. Isn't that what you want?"
Tenra's mind spun—torn between forbidden reason and overwhelming desire.
"N-no, I can't… you're Rias's—Rias…"
"Rias doesn't have to know, does she? And even if she finds out, I'll help you smooth things over."
Venelana's eyes sparkled with mischief. "If you can't decide, then let me decide for you."
Before Tenra could react, Venelana sealed his lips with hers and pushed him down. His mind exploded—thoughts scattered, reason gone.
"We… we can't…" Tenra tried to protest, but she silenced him again.
Watching the two entwined on the floor, Grayfia's expression remained cool and composed. She slowly began to unbutton her blouse.
"Tenra Kamiyo," she murmured, voice like ice and silk, "if you dare run or break your promise, I'll curse you for the rest of your life."
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