(A/N: We're flashing backward in time.)
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Right after the souls of the Eternal Drakkens were taken…
Below the great, summoned Undead creature, a world plough, a Death Knight, the masked man stood, embellished by its shadow. Greenish-black Undeath energy exploded from his outline and twisted violently as though to shield him from the eyes of the onlookers – a force consisting of Unlimited Stars, Stark Troops, the Five Houses of Pelian and several hundred combatants from Pelian Families.
For the moment, Rias didn't concern himself with them. It was rather degrading that he had been diminished to this state by a single mortal, and he had admitted that in his fight against Kintar, he had indeed, lost.
But there was a rhyme and a reason for all things.
'A week ago, mortals, anomalies and Heralds gathered to defeat me. History repeats itself I suppose,' the masked man thought. 'But I too was a mortal last time. I died with a bad answer nesting in my ears. Will it be the same time?'
