The key in the lock, he smiled: the hunt was about to resume. Caliël pushed the door open, euphoric, and signaled to his comrades. Prioritizing their recovery over their pursuit, he had exclusively taken care of them in recent days, had healed them, patient but ready to go back on the attack as soon as possible. Now that he knew the identity of their target, the battle would no longer be the same. He would have liked so much to exchange with his mentor, to share his excitement, the vengeance in his veins. Holding back from projecting himself, he still imagined the credit their victory over this opponent would bring them. For a moment, he could read his name engraved on the dark rock of the Wall of Glory. Taming his ego, he corrected himself: he was not seeking the praise of the Heavens but to rid Humanity of this threat.

Once in the living room, he slowly set down his bags, intrigued by the scene. Veuliah, Manakël, and Rehaël were waiting, suitcases and travel bags at their feet. His lips formed a question to which his mind did not want an answer, but he got one anyway.

"I have a plane to New York," admitted Manakël.

— Mine is for Buenos Aires," continued Veuliah.

— And you, Rehaël?"

— I... I plan to travel on foot," answered the angel, embarrassed as much as his peers. "See where they lead me.

— Caliël," Veuliah called out. "It's been ten days since you've been taking care of us, thinking about our wounds. The three of us haven't had the slightest chance of worrying him. Now that we've been deprived of our powers, do you sincerely think we have a better chance of defeating him? Be realistic. For us, who have lost our angelic nature, it's better to disappear, blend in with humans. Only then can we survive."

A part of him agreed with them: they were no longer in a condition to fight. Yet, Caliël could not give up on the mission entrusted to them, even if he had to do it alone. As if his friends had heard his inner resolution, they passed him one by one, leaving the apartment without a word.