Water slid slowly over Gasper's body. Steam filled the bathroom, muffling the sound of the world. His training with Grayfia had just ended, and every muscle still burned with the precision of her instructions.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
The silence that should have been rest broke inside his mind.
An image appeared, vivid and urgent a girl kneeling, crying on the cold floor of a ruined church. The fallen crucifix, the distant sound of laughter.
The vision flickered, and Gasper saw her face clearly.
"You finally appeared, Asia."
His voice echoed softly, almost a whisper.
"It's fine… I'll save you."
The air around him vibrated as he opened his eyes.
Fwoooosh.
Darkness rose like a living veil, wrapping around his naked body until all contours disappeared. The shadow molded itself into clothing, a natural, precise, silent movement.
The crimson Gremory crest shone on the floor, expanding in twisted lines.
Fwoooosh.
In an instant, Gasper vanished.
Abandoned Church
The silence hanging in the air was the same as before the destruction, only emptier. Freed stood before the altar, spinning his pistol between his fingers, a manic smile on his face.
Asia cried on her knees, hands clasped in prayer.
"Praying won't save you, blondie." Freed stepped forward, his voice dripping sarcasm. "You know what I should do? Hand your head to the priest and ask for a promotion."
Asia tried lifting her gaze, her voice trembling. "Please, Freed… don't do this."
"Shut up!"
The shout echoed through the broken walls. He kicked the crucifix beside her, the metal hitting the floor with a sharp sound.
Clack.
"You're a freak! A nun who healed a demon? Not even hell wants you, girl."
She curled into herself, sobbing softly. "I just wanted to help…"
Freed laughed, the insane sound bouncing off the hall. "Help? You destroyed the faith you claimed to have! I should burn you right now just to see if any purity is left in there."
Asia cried quietly. Tears slid slowly, mixing with the dust.
"God still hears me…"
"God doesn't hear trash." Freed raised his gun, aiming straight at her forehead. "But I hear you. And the sound I want is your repentance."
The air shifted before the shot.
Fwoooosh.
The wind bent, and space seemed to tear. A crimson symbol lit up on the floor behind the altar, and from the shadows something emerged without sound, without light—just a presence that shouldn't exist.
Freed turned instantly, his finger tightening on the trigger. "What the hell…?"
Smoke dissolved behind the altar, revealing Gasper, unmoving, cold-eyed, almost absent.
Freed widened his eyes, then began laughing, loud and mocking. "Look at that, a damn Devil inside the Lord's house. Divine comedy!"
He licked his lips, spinning the pistol. "You Devils are like rats. Wherever I look, one of you is crawling around."
Asia, still kneeling, turned slowly. "A… Devil?"
Gasper looked at her, his voice calm. "Yes. And you need to leave."
"But… why?"
"Because I came to take you out of this hell."
Her heart pounded. "God… sent a Devil to help me?"
He didn't answer. He simply stepped forward.
Freed frowned, irritated. "Hey! I'm talking to you, kid. Look at me when a man speaks."
Gasper stayed silent.
"You're one of them, aren't you? Working for the fallen angels, just like that other idiot who showed up around here." Freed raised both guns. "Bet those bastards sent you to test me. Forget it, kid, I'm their favorite."
Asia tried standing, but fear made her stumble over her own legs. "Freed, please don't do this."
"Shut up!" He shot her a glare, spitting the words. "You should be grateful you're still breathing, you sacred little freak."
"I just wanted to help people…"
"Liar. You wanted to play saint. And look where you ended up—surrounded by demons."
Gasper took another step. His voice was steady. "She is not your toy."
Freed cracked his neck, the smile on his face twisting. "So brave… want to be the girl's hero? You'll die like all the others."
The sound of the blade cutting the air came with the dry click of the trigger.
Bang!
The bullet crossed the space. Gasper watched it move as if time had thinned. He shifted aside, and the shot grazed his shoulder.
Freed yelled, excited. "Look at that! The kid's fast! This is gonna be fun."
Asia whimpered, covering her ears. "Please, stop!"
"Be quiet, blondie!" Freed laughed. "I'll show you what real fun is in a second."
"You talk too much."
Gasper's voice came cold, controlled.
His eyes glowed red, and the air seemed to contract.
Fwoooosh.
Sound shattered.
The bullet Freed had just fired froze centimeters from the barrel. His body stopped, the smile still fixed on his face. Smoke from the gun remained suspended in the air.
Asia froze too, her fearful expression petrified. The wind stopped, and the entire world held its breath.
Gasper raised his hand. The mark on his arm glowed darkly, his Sacred Gear pulsing slowly.
Time was frozen.
He observed them for a moment—the fanatic locked in rage and the girl trapped in fear.
Time's stillness made the air vibrate silently. Dust particles hung motionless, as if the world had been erased and left on pause.
Gasper took a deep breath. The sound was the only movement in the frozen space.
His eyes traced Freed's face the twisted smile, the pressed trigger, the bullet hovering just beyond the barrel. Everything in that instant represented what he despised most: the arrogance of those who fancied themselves divine.
"You should have stayed silent."
His voice came calm, almost emotionless. He extended his hand, guiding it to the suspended bullet. The metal reflected the reddish glow of his eyes.
With a slight motion, he twisted Freed's wrist until the sharp crack of breaking bone echoed.
Clack.
The fanatic's body remained frozen, the smile still fixed in place. The gun turned slowly, the reversed bullet now pointing straight at his forehead.
Gasper kept his gaze on the scene. 'A fitting end for a man who preached death in the name of faith.'
He walked to Asia. Her face, frozen in terror, still held traces of purity and hope. Gasper knelt before her, lowering his head briefly.
"Sorry for taking so long."
He lifted his hand and placed two fingers on her forehead. The touch was light, almost like an inverted blessing. A soft glow passed between them, and color returned to her lips.
"Sleep a little. The worst is over."
His lips curved in a short smile. Not of joy, but of cold satisfaction.
Gasper stood, looking back at Freed. The frozen scene resembled a macabre painting—the fanatic about to die by his own hand.
"Sinners reap the sound of their own gunshots."
He raised his arm, and the crimson crest shone beneath his feet again. Energy expanded, swallowing the floor in pulsing lines.
Fwoooosh.
Gasper's body vanished along with Asia's, time still frozen.
The symbol disappeared, and for a brief second, the world remained suspended in emptiness. Then sound returned.
The gunshot echoed.
Bang!
The bullet cut through the air and struck Freed's head before he could react. His body collapsed backward, heavy, blood staining the altar where he had preached the name of a God who had never heard him.
The echo of the shot faded slowly, dragging silence back into the church. The fallen crucifix on the floor reflected one last glint of light before the corpse's shadow covered it.
Nothing remained but the distant sound of wind slipping through the cracks.
The room was silent when Gasper returned. Shadows still clung to the floor, flowing behind him like living mist. Asia remained unconscious in his arms, her face peaceful as though the nightmare had finally ended.
He approached the bed and laid her down gently. The white sheets swallowed her small frame, and the contrast between her purity and the shadows still swirling around him was almost painful.
"Now you can rest."
His voice was soft, restrained. Darkness pulsed one last time around his body, an instinctive echo, before beginning to dissipate. Shadows slid off his arms like cold water.
Fwoooosh.
The clothes conjured from pure energy vanished as well. Air touched warm skin, and the dim room saw the last of the shadows fade, leaving him naked under its faint light. For a moment, Gasper stood still, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of silence and the exhaustion of power used.
Then he heard the sound.
Clack.
The doorknob turned, and the door opened slowly.
"Gasper, are you done with your ba—"
The voice stopped.
Rias froze in the doorway, her smile vanishing instantly. Her eyes scanned the scene, and every detail seemed to worsen the picture: Gasper naked. A sleeping nun in his bed. The room still thick with magical residue.
Silence swallowed everything.
Rias blinked, trying to understand. Her hands shook slightly, her face shifting between shock and disbelief. "Gasper… what… what is this?"
He turned quickly, instinctively trying to cover himself. Her stare remained fixed, unable to decide whether she should scream, run, or destroy the entire room.
"It's not… it's not what it looks like."
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