Atlas smiled and handed Kafka, just after appearing from nowhere. "Arnold wants to speak with you," he said.

Kafka had grown accustomed to the sudden appearances of the Titan of Space, and was no longer shocked. He accepted the cigarette with a scoff, thinking of the months he had spent on the compound of the Eagles' Fortress, waiting under the hope Arnold Norr had instilled in him that he would use for a greater purpose. Kafka had to repeat to himself that his stay in that Fortress was of his own free will, and that Arnold's words didn't incur a threat, but a partnership.

Even on the days he regretted his careless choice to join the Golden Dawn, he found himself unable to leave from the simple joy that came with watching the others work. After all, he was able to watch unity inspired into all Worldy species as they worked for one common goal: destruction. It warmed his heart and reminded him of his brothers.

Truth be told, he hadn't seen or heard from Arnold at all since that fateful day he was brought there, the day of the vicious battle of the forest. He hadn't even had the opportunity to use his magic at all, purely out of fear that if he were ever caught he would be blasted to smithereens by another magic user.

These people weren't police officers or soldiers, but volunteer warriors that fought for death's sake. Even if he tried his best, he wouldn't survive against a swarm of the Golden Dawn's fighters.

Kafka locked eyes with Atlas as his cigarette ignited. "I know you've been watching me these past months. Did Arnold give you that job?"

Atlas wasn't focused on what Kafka had spoken. He lifted Kafka's chin and squeezed his cheekbones. "Five months here and you haven't gained a single pound of muscle or fat. That says plenty about you. But at least you don't indulge in gluttony."

Kafka swallowed his dry saliva and tried to ignore the coldness of Atlas' touch. "Are you going to take me to Arnold?"

"If the meek want to inherit the earth, they'll have to wait in line. It's our turn this time." It was finally then that he released Kafka from his cold and clammy hands, before turning away and guiding Kafka down a path of dark and cold stones.

Reaching the office of Arnold Norr was a matter of a single minute, even without the use of Atlas' magic. They entered his room of plastered and painted walls and headed for his desk shrouded by books and papers of maps and circles of magic.

Atlas shoved Kafka forward and motioned at him to sit before the desk of the Vice-Commander.

"You're human, correct?" Arnold asked, yet to look up from the book he read, flipping between each set of pages every couple seconds or so. Kafka knew Asgardians were naturally the most intelligent and intellectually gifted of the Worldly people, but uncovering and understanding and storing new information at such a rapid rate...

Kafka supposed Arnold wasn't the Vice-Commander simply for his natural talent at killing. "Uh, yes. Yes, sir," he stammered out, almost having forgotten of the question.

"Good. This story has its origin on your world," Arnold responded, his head still in his books, leaving Atlas and Kafka to stare at nothing other than his head of shaggy white hair. "What call you tell me of the Box of Pandora?"

"Huh?"

Atlas burst into a chortle, while Arnold explained. "I asked your Titan friend here, but being a Demon-Born, he never lived the life of a normal human. He knows nothing," he said, fiddling through an assortment of papers, before finally looking up and greeting Kafka with a pair of gleaming eyes of gold and a crystal white smile. He was as pale as always. "Well?"

"Well... All I know is that it's a myth–" The human was interrupted by Atlas clearing his throat. He turned back and stared at the Titan standing behind him. "Right."

Turning back to Arnold, he continued: "It's a story about Pandora, this woman with a box containing evil itself. I've heard different versions of it, but long story short, she opens the box and the evils get released into the world." He paused, a thin smile curling on his lips. "Oh, I see. It's a lot like what you guys did a while back. It's the same as the Tribulation you started."

"You could say that," Arnold told him. "But at the end of the day, they are two separate actions, two separate events we must capitalize on. We must find the Box of Pandora."

Kafka furrowed his eyebrows, beginning to squeeze down on the arms of the chair he sat in. "Are you saying Pandora's Box is real?"

"The opening of the Box occurred in the Earth year, 701 BC," Arnold answered, tapping at the paper beneath him. "Now, it wasn't just evil that was released. Demons, curses, spirits, monsters– all the like were released from the Box and ran rampant across the region of the Mediterranean, until two magicians, Socrates and his student, Platus, reverted the opening and sealed the creatures away."

"Plato," Atlas corrected. "Socrates' student was Plato."

Arnold grinned. "So you do know stuff," he joked to his friend, before turning back to Kafka. "But yes, the two magicians sealed the Box of Pandora once more. Now it still exists. It can still be found, and that means it can be opened." He sucked air through his teeth, and prompted, "Being human, I suppose you know. I'm sure we can agree on who the strongest in this universe is."

Kafka locked eyes with the Asgardian's golden gaze. "Are you referring to... Charles Archibald?"

Arnold nodded, the sides of his red lips curling up into a smirk. "I'm going to kill him myself. You will help me in doing so. You and your brothers, and this entire organization, will help me kill the strongest Paladin." He stood up, pushing his chair backward and pressing his palm against a grand map of Midgard. "We will open the Box of Pandora over their lands. We will let the spirits and curses invade, and we ourselves will invade as well. In one fell swoop, we will destroy all of our enemies on that realm."

Pushing his chair back, as well, Kafka shot up with excitement. "Finally!..." he choked out. "I've been waiting for something like this!"

"There's just over three months until Leviathan reaches the World, but..." He shook his head, saying, "No, no, no... We will wait for the third devil. In six months' time, we will bring Beezlebub to them. On that day, hell itself will rain down on the humans."

- - - - -

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By the first day of the competitions, Giovanna Belmonte was ready. Over the past week, she had resolved herself. And she had acknowledged her weaknesses, resorting to her constant transformation into a puddle of sweat each day until the battle.

Not once was training with Alexander Lane as easy or fun as she expected.

Although Alexander beat her in every duel, her injuries were never anything more than light bruises. Giovanna hated him for going easy on her each time, but the difference in their strengths was enough for her to acknowledge that it was necessary.

Still, investing hours of each day of the week for fighting had spurred significant improvement. Enough for her and Alexander to notice, at least.

But now was the moment of truth.

Even after fighting three Princes of Hell, even after countless missions, this was her first chance to truly prove herself. Not just to her brother and her parents, but to the world as a whole. Regardless of how easy or difficult the battle will be, all she had to do was win.

Nothing else mattered except for victory, she realized. Even on paper, with the idea of a 15-year-old student defeating a teacher– the second-born child defeating the first-born son– her victory would change her life.

Sitting in a cold locker room didn't bother her at all. She was waiting patiently, and even as the minutes passed, her resolve did not waver.

While the young contestant waited alone, her brother was still out and about, examining the school he visited without a care in the world, even as the bout he agreed to would begin in an hour.

He smiled, staring out the window of the top floor and finding the sight of hundreds of people from all over the nation and the Norteon Union, all seeking entertainment and business from magic itself.

Giorno Belmonte was scheduled to be part of that entertainment.

As he began to head for the battleground, he came across a young boy, walking in the opposite direction. Another spectator, he determined. He held no concern for the boy, even as they were the only ones in the hallway, maybe even the building.

But as they took a few more steps near each other, he noticed the boy's face. With cinnamon skin and jet-black hair, Giorno was quick to identify him. Alexander Lane, one of Archibald's Virtues. He smirked as they locked eyes.

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows, hesitating in realizing who it was. The Grade 2 Belmonte. Alexander prayed he wouldn't recognize him, but that was too much to ask for. Giorno stepped to the side and knocked his shoulder into Alexander's.

The slight bump threw him off his course, and allowed him to notice the thin smirk that remained on Giorno's lips as he walked forth.

Giovanna said he was supposed to be weak. But as Alexander stopped and stared at the man walk with his hands in his pockets, smiling in silence, he noticed the shimmering aura around him.

Golden light flickered around him like a kindled flame, low in radiance but lucid and firm.

'What the hell type of magic does he have?' Alexander asked himself, swallowing his saliva as he considered that Giovanna may not win their bout.

Alexander pushed those thoughts out of his mind and reminded himself of the lengths Giovanna had gone to, all in preparation for a single battle. At the same time, he quietly thanked all in Heaven for placing the supporters' section in individual duels directly across the entry area for the challengers.

If not, he would've had to walk side by side with Giorno Belmonte for the whole length of the hallway.

He exited the third floor of the building and began to head down the exit stairway at its side, beginning to head towards the dueling ground. But before he could take a single step down, he met Charles Archibald, standing alone and staring down at the arena.

"Archibald?"

Archibald turned to his side and flashed a grin as he met Alexander. Before either of them spoke, they both knew they wished to ask the same question: 'What are you doing here?'

"I'm heading down to watch Giovanna's battle. You?"

"I've been assigned to security. Well... I volunteered. It just gives me an excuse to watch the games."

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. Using Charles Archibald as a security officer seemed like a waste of talent, but...

"I have to watch the event from a certain distance to ascertain that if something were to go wrong, I would be able to prevent it from getting worse. That sort of thing," the Paladin explained. With nothing more than a shrug, he went back to watching what was about to begin.

With a nod of his head, Alexander spoke again. "Well, it's not like anything abnormal will happen right now. Giovanna said he's a Grade 2, so his strength is nothing worth worrying over. This is Giovanna's victory."

Archibald chuckled. "You should know, Alexander. Grade 2 is far from weak. I believe your perspective is skewed."

"What do you mean?"

"You spend your time around the Paladins and I, and your main judge of progress is the series of battles you have against demons."

Alexander paused and began to think, all the while Archibald continued to explain.

"Now that you think back, how strong would you say Belphegor was?"

"I don't know. Grade 1, maybe."

"A solid Grade 2. And that's only because you fought him in an Enclosed World of a demonic creation. Without that boost, well... he'd still be that grade, but somewhat weaker, as I'm sure you know. And why did you win against him?"

"Excalibur."

"If it was only Excalibur, Gabriel would've won before you intruded into that World. You won, Alexander Lane, through losing yourself and uncovering a hidden well of energy that had been sealed away. That created a rapid boost in all of your capabilities, and that allowed you to kill the demon. What was the case with Asmodeus?"

Alexander let out a quick laugh. "Alright, you can't tell me Asmodeus wasn't a Grade 1."

"He wasn't."

Alexander sighed.

"He was a Grade 2. Maybe within those upper limits, but not quite past it. Your reason behind victory wasn't due to individual brilliance, although if there is any one person to claim the victory as their own, it would be Anastasia Velda. Your advantage in weaponry only proved useful through the superb management of the girl."

With a nod, Alexander spoke again. "You're right about that. And you have to dive into how I beat Mammon either. I already know what you'll say."

"Good." He stared at the young Virtue and smiled. "You needn't be dejected, my boy. It seems you misunderstand the point I made. Yes, your opponents were weaker than you believed, but you overcame them."

"Not alone, though. Like..." Another sigh. "Those important battles– I never won them by my own strength. It was always someone else, or something else. And I can't always count on people or luck or fate or anything."

"Well, for one," Archibald said, pressing his hand against Alexander's shoulder. "I've seen you training Giovanna. At the same time, you train yourself, your dark magic. Your sword skills are useful, as well. In physical combat alone, you're a top fighter. You're far stronger than you think you are."

Alexander raised his head and forced a smile. "Thank you, Archibald."

With nothing more to say, the Paladin patted Alexander's back. Smacked, rather, as the unconscious force propelled him forward to the metal railing. "You should head down there. Your friends are waiting for you. And this is exactly the type of battle you need to watch with them."

Alexander's smile grew genuine, placing his hopes in Giovanna and her abilities. He nodded, before dashing down the metal and concrete staircase to the arena.

As he ran, he examined the battleground– a grand pit full of sand, 50 meters in length and 50 meters in width. Thin panels of dark wood separated the pit from the rest of the arena, with spectators standing just a handful of meters away from the battleground itself, although they would soon be pushed back for their safety.

Magical duels would always get out of hand, and the spectators' safety was never under guarantee, regardless of how much they paid to watch from the closest seat possible.

Cameras were brimming and the commentators had already begun announcing. Though it was just the middle of the day, each of the four corners of the pit had been adorned with grand stacks of firewood, each sequentially ignited to blaze the hearts of all who watched.

"Ladies and gentlemen of all corners of the world!" the announcer began. "On this day, we begin the pinnacle of challenges and competitions for our nation's, our union's future– that is, our young magicians. And what better manner for commencement is there than an ultimate battle between siblings of the highest order, the most respected of families, the Belmontes! San Francisco teacher Giorno Belmonte engages against New York student Giovanna Belmonte!"

He took in a grand, audible breath before continuing his excited rambling. "The rules are simple. Whomsoever is removed from the bounds of the battlegrounds will lose immediately! Any and all magic is free to use, given that no attacks with the aim to kill will be used. Weapons tend to be permitted, but both parties opted against it in this case! They really are siblings!" he shouted out with a cackle.

"The ultimate stage is illuminated for them both, for the sake of their glory and pride. In just a few short minutes, the battle will commence!"