The news hit Malik harder than he expected. For a moment, he forgot to hide his reaction, or more accurately, he simply allowed it to show, the shock bleeding through his carefully constructed mask.

"...it hasn’t?"

Safira nodded, her expression grave.

"Not even close."

The wind tugged at her ginger hair, pulling loose strands across her face. She didn’t bother tucking them back.

"We’re facing millions of Demons daily, yes. But those Demons aren’t strong enough to even be ranked. A very skilled mortal could defeat a few before Falling."

She paused, choosing her next words carefully.

"Lesser Demons, Greater Demons, and Arch Demons have yet to come in droves. I dread the day Greater Demons arrive... never mind Arch Demons." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

She sighed and looked out at the horizon, where the sky turned dark earlier than it should.

"There was the occasional Greater Demon, but those were dispatched quickly by the Guard of the Fifth. It’s a bit of an open secret amongst the soldiers... at least those who survived long enough to know and understand the war."

Malik silently stared at his disciple.

’Did I... did I fight an Arch Demon in the East?’

Indeed, it seemed that he had done just that.

’Some time in the future, millions of those might come. Giants with the strength of Angels that would destroy Devil Maw for miles with each step...’

He almost shuddered.

The thought alone was enough to make his blood run cold. Facing that many, even as a no-longer-weakened Angel, was impossible. He simply could not let such a future pass.

"Hehe..."

Safira seemed to notice his tension.

"Don’t worry too much."

She reached over and patted his shoulder.

"Our Sultan has got it covered. I doubt he’d let that happen. And even if it did, him being here is enough to defend us."

She looked away, her smile fading.

"I only wish I could see him again."

’...’

Once more, Malik said nothing.

His disciple was praising the Sultan, putting her full faith in him, all while sitting next to the very man she spoke of, who was nearly killed by a bunch of nobody invaders.

It would have been hilarious if it weren’t so damned tragic.

Thankfully, Safira didn’t notice his internal turmoil, already lost in her own thoughts.

"You know what..."

She pushed herself to her feet.

"I’ll go annoy Sinbad a little. I know that bird. He might have hidden his brother from us."

She dashed back towards the stairwell, her robes billowing behind her.

Within seconds, she disappeared through the doorway, leaving Malik alone on the golden dome.

He watched her go, then turned back to the horizon.

’...okay, now what?’

Earlier, before the bombshell about the war, he had been thinking about how to get Safira to leave him alone. Surprisingly, and once again, the solution had been simpler than expected.

Just get her excited about meeting the Sultan, and she would rush off on her own.

That was what she had done, just like that.

To be fair, there wasn’t much she could be suspicious about.

He was just a traumatized soldier she had rescued from a ravine.

What could he even do?

Still, the next problem remained.

How could he get down from the roof?

Malik didn’t want to waste a Soul Glyph. He couldn’t use his fire even if he wanted to, in case someone saw him. He couldn’t damage the Holy Palace during his descent. The golden domes were priceless.

One wrong step and he would leave a mark that would raise questions he couldn’t answer.

So again, the question came.

How could he descend without being seen?

He continued to sit on the edge of the dome, thinking away.

The two Suns crawled across the sky, their light shifting from orange to red, while the wind changed direction, blowing warmer from the South.

Bells rang a second time, announcing the evening hour.

Devil Maw was beautiful.

’...hm?’

As that thought crossed his mind, he noticed something to the side.

A flock of crimson owls circled near the palace gardens. Most of them were small—younglings, barely old enough to fly on their own. But one of them was familiar.

Isha.

The little owl from the kidnapping attempt earlier, the one he had saved.

She remained barely more than a ball of feathers, but she flew with more confidence.

Hoooot!

Leaving her flock, she suddenly glided towards him, her pink eyes locked on his old face.

Before Malik could process that surprise, she landed on his lap, her claws as gentle as her father’s.

"Hello there, little Isha~!"

Malik quickly welcomed her with soft pats.

"Uncle!"

And she did so back, making him raise an eyebrow.

’Oh, she can speak like Sinbad? Then why didn’t she before?’

The behavior of this little one confused him, but that could be said about all children. They all operated on their own logic and timing.

"Yes, that I am. How are you?"

He picked up Isha, and she cooed with delight, wrapping her small wings around his neck.

Her feathers were soft against his skin, warm from the Suns, prompting him to grin and spin her around, wringing joyful coos out of her.

For a moment, all of his thoughts and the duty pressing down on him disappeared.

The only thing that he saw was the happiness shining in Isha’s pink eyes. She was utterly adorable.

Malik couldn’t stop himself. He poked her fluffy cheeks, squishing them gently, making funny faces.

"What’s this? Are these cheeks or tiny balloons?"

"Chweeeks!"

"Oh, really? Can I take them?"

Isha’s hoots rang out again as she tried to push his hands away with her wings.

"No, uncle! They’re mine!"

"Yours? I don’t remember them being this squishy last we met."

"Hehehehe... Yes, they’re mine... I’m eating a lot."

Malik raised an eyebrow once more, feigning surprise.

"That’s good, and well, if they’re really yours, I guess I’d better let them go."

If someone saw this scene, they’d struggle to correlate it with the Malik they knew.

A man who did the impossible in the morning, annihilated millions in the afternoon, and ruined thousands in the evening.

She nestled her little head against his shoulder, cooing contentedly.

"Hey, have you seen how your dad gets bigger?"

Isha nodded.

"Yes. The um... transformation!"

"Hm, can you do that?"

She bonked his neck with her head—a playful tap—and jumped down from his shoulder.

Once on the ground, she spun in a few circles and her wings tucked close to her body.

The air around her shimmered, and then...

Hooooooooot!

Isha grew.

She wasn’t as large as Sinbad. Her father could cover hills with his shadow when he transformed fully, but it was enough.

Isha had quadrupled in size, her wings expanding and her claws lengthening.

When the transformation finished, she was large enough to carry a grown man on her back.

Malik stood up and approached her, patting her feathered flank.

"Then do you think you and I can go on a little adventure? It’ll be our little secret."

Isha cooed a little giggle and wagged her tail feathers.

"Hop on! Hop on!"

Malik did as she asked.

He climbed onto her back, settling between her wings, his legs hanging over her sides.

Immediately, and without giving him any warning, she blasted off into the sky.

The Holy Palace dropped away beneath them as wind roared in his ears. Its golden domes shrank to pinpricks, then to nothing.

"Woooah!"

He shouted over the wind, acting like an old man would.

"Be careful, little lady! Your uncle isn’t too old for this, but he’s not as young as he used to be."

Isha "humphed" somehow, managing to convey both amusement and exasperation.

"Don’t lie, uncle! You’re not that old! I saw you!"

Malik, though surprised at her words, didn’t say anything back and only patted her feathers.

’She knows. She knows who I am.’

Indeed, it seemed that his little niece knew of his true identity and his disguise, or at least thought of it as one.

Isha didn’t call him "uncle" because it was a respectful term. She called him uncle because he was her uncle.

Sinbad’s brother.

The Sultan.

She had seen through his disguise the same way children always saw through the pretensions of adults.

Malik let out a chuckle.

"Hm... now, little one..."

He leaned forward slightly, speaking close to her ear.

"How about we go to the West?"