The two shared a moment of nothing to say as Michael piled stones upon Virgil's heart, the only relic of a man that is-in one way or another-no longer with his brothers.

"Where is he?" Noel spoke up.

"I don't know," Michael responded with a thoroughly tired voice, "but this is my fault. I understand if you have any frustrations. If I had listened- just... get some rest, we all need it. I'll let you know when it's time to gather and leave."

Michael finished burying his second-in-command-his friend's-heart in stone.

"I have amends to make."

His silence which followed told the two to leave, and they swiftly did. As they walked, Noel spoke again.

"Yo, Lucius, I'm gonna visit that blacksmith. You coming?"

"No. I have someone to visit as well."

"Who, your lover?" A smirk gradually made itself apparent on his face.

"She's not my lover, Noel."

"Suuuure. Anyway, catch you later. Don't be jealous if you see me with a sword bigger than yours."

"Yeah? You wouldn't be able to carry it anyway," he retorted, earning a hearty chuckle which trailed off as the distance between them grew. Lucius's brows furrowed as he looked at his hands as though he changed. That was new. He never bantered with someone before.

Lucius made his way towards the hospital- towards Vera, who leaned on the stone walls with folded arms and an idle look on face. Her attention snapped towards the sound of footsteps approaching her, and her face lit up when she saw it was Lucius.

"Hey! How you been, man? I saw what happened."

"Better than most. I'm glad you're alive. Are you okay?"

Vera held back a giggle- he cared for her, and he didn't realize it.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

He nodded.

"How are the men?"

She sharply inhaled with a grimace.

"Honestly? Not looking good. I can't say for sure if anyone in there's alive. The medics are working hard, but..."

"There's a possibility all of them have died?"

"Basically, yeah."

A sorrowed sigh escaped from him.

"For my sake, I'll appreciate what I have. Right now, I'm not strong enough to mourn every single one of them."

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"Welcome to my world, man."

"Hm. Hey, Vera?"

"Yeah?"

"Selfish as it might be, we're leaving soon. You should come with us. We'll fight demons, but you'll be safer with us than here."

A smile slowly made its way to Vera's lips.

"Look at you, caring about me and stuff."

Confusion struck Lucius's face, to which Vera met with laughter.

"Alright! I'm in. Plus..."

With a smirk, the medic pushed away her coat to reveal a handgun affixed to her waist.

"I'm pretty good at kicking demon ass myself."

Far from Lucius and Vera, Noel seated himself in front of the blacksmith's stand- separating the two was a table with an array of beautifully-designed weapons displayed across it. The blacksmith's bandaged hands sharpened the iron of a blade with a stone. Nothing was said between the two, only the sounds of the blacksmith's furnace burning and the scraping of rock against metal.

The two sat across from each other in silence, and it was the blacksmith who broke it.

"Praise our father. What brings you here, hunter of demons?"

His unusually bass-y voice caught Noel off-guard, but he spoke nonetheless.

"Dude... my father's dead."

The blacksmith ceased sharpening his weapon and shot Noel a dirty glare- as if he just uttered the most abhorrent thing the human mind could conceptualize. Noel, thoroughly confused, threw his hands up. With a disappointed head shake, he returned to sharpening.

"You are mistaken. I refer not to your biological father, but your creator. He will guide us to salvation."

"Coool. Where can I meet 'em?"

"Only by following his will in life can we meet him in death."

"Huh? Sounds made-up to me. You sure he's real?"

The bandages wrapped around his face scrunched up, indicating furrowed eyebrows.

"Enough, lest you do not value your life," he demanded with heightened aggression. Noel wasn't exactly sure if that threat was empty or not- his imposing aura combined with sheer confidence made it difficult to tell.

"Sheesh, dude, I'm just sayin'."

"What brings you here, hunter of demons?" he repeated.

"I want a kick-ass gun. Mine's a little..." Noel brandished a dirtied and damaged pistol. "Y'know? Can't kill demons like it used to."

With no words, the blacksmith set down his stone and sword and retrieved a handgun from underneath the table before handing it to the demon hunter. It was, Noel noted, a work of beauty.

"Free of charge," he punctuated.

With a nod of approval, Noel took in the sight of his gift.

"Thanks, man. You sure you don't need anything in return?"

"You are the ones who freed me from Cain. For that, everything you see here has no price."

Noel's eyes widened at the prospect of taking every weapon he saw.

"Do not be greedy," the blacksmith warned upon seeing Noel's awe-stricken gaze.

"Aw, man." Noel studied the blacksmith's appearance more, and there were no discernable features other than bitter and brown eyes.

"Say, I hope you don't mind me askin', but why are you covered in bandages?"

The blacksmith breathed heavily; a deep-cutting question for him.

"The same reason why what you are holding is free. Cain did this to me when I refused to make weapons for him. The wounds have long since healed, but the scars will be permanent."

"I see. Sorry that happened to you, man. Just know you don't have to hide them."

"They are unsightly," he retorted, shooting down the notion of revealing himself.

"Gotcha. Well," Noel replied while standing out of his seat, "I'll be on my way now. This is gonna be sick to use at the Plagued City, so thank you."

"You'll depart? All of you?"

"Yep. Once Michael gathers us, we're gonna go."

The blacksmith immediately rose to his feet.

"I wish to join."

Noel's eyebrow cocked with skepticism.

"You sure? We kill demons, in case you didn't know."

"As do I."

"Well, then, I'm sure you'll fit riiiight in. Nice to meet you, uhh.."

"Miyazaki," he filled in.

"Nice to meet you, Miyazaki."

Far from Miyazaki and Noel, Michael stared at the pile of stones he created; an improper burial to one of his closest friends. He could not guess where Virgil was, only hope that he's safe. A failure of a leader. How could he look his men in the eyes and dare apologize? Were they even alive? He should have never tried to lead anyone. This was his fault. Virgil was right, and now he's gone.

"... I'm sorry," Michael muttered to Virgil's grave, "wherever you are, I'm sorry."