Deus.Ex.Machina Chapter 23

Three months after the dinner, life had gotten...interesting.

I was now officially the "Mishima-Shitori Project Liaison," which was corporate-speak for "guy who has to spend way too much ti in etings with devils." Thanks, Dad.

And guess who was the Sitri side's appointed representative?

Yep. Sona.

"You're late," she said without looking up from her tablet as I walked into the conference room. Her usual spot—head of the table, perfect posture, not a hair out of place.

"By like, two minutes," I replied, dropping into the chair across from her. "The traffic was demonic."

She glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly at my word choice. I just smiled innocently.

"We have a lot to cover today," she said, sliding a stack of docunts across the table. "The permits for the Kyoto site are still pending, and we need to finalize the architectural plans for the Osaka location."

I flipped through the paperwork, scanning for anything interesting. "How's the staffing situation? I told my dad we should poach that neurosurgeon from Tokyo General."

"Dr. Yamada? Already done," Sona replied. "He starts next month."

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "That was fast."

"Efficiency is my specialty," she said, the smallest hint of pride in her voice.

"Among other things," I muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

Working with Sona these past months had been... an education. For both of us, I think. She approached every problem like it was a chess match—thodical, strategic, ten steps ahead. I was more of a "let's try sothing crazy and see if it works" kind of guy. Sohow, we balanced each other out.

The Mishima-Shitori Healthcare Initiative was actually moving faster than anyone had expected. Three hospitals already in the planning stages, two more sites being scouted, and enough press coverage to make both our families look like saints. The devils getting good PR for healing humans—the irony wasn't lost on .

"The contractors are asking about the materials for the Yokohama site," Sona continued, scrolling through her notes. "Apparently there's so issue with the specialized glass we ordered."

"Already handled it," I replied, pulling out my phone to show her the email. "Called in a favor from a supplier in Germany. Better quality, sa price."

She looked surprised for a mont before nodding. "That's... actually impressive."

"Don't sound so shocked," I grinned. "I do occasionally pay attention in these etings."

"When you're not trying to see how many tis you can use words like 'hellish' and 'divine' in one conversation," she pointed out.

"It keeps things interesting."

The corner of her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. Over the months, I'd gotten better at making those almost-smiles happen.

We worked through the agenda—budgets, tilines, staffing, PR strategies. The usual corporate dance, but with the added spice of knowing that half the room had supernatural powers. Just another Wednesday.

"My father is pleased with our progress," Sona said as we were wrapping up. "He ntioned it at the last family dinner."

"High praise from Mr. Shitori," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "My parents won't stop talking about how 'refreshing' it is to work with the Shitori's. Mom keeps dropping hints about 'strengthening family ties.'"

Sona's eyes widened slightly. "What exactly does that an?"

I shrugged, enjoying her montary discomfort. "You know how parents are. See two young people working together successfully, imdiately start planning the dynasty."

She adjusted her glasses—her tell when she was flustered. "That's... highly presumptuous of them."

"Relax, Souna. I'm not asuring you for a ring yet."

"As if I would accept," she replied quickly, but there was a hint of color in her cheeks.

I gathered my papers, deciding to show rcy. "Next eting Thursday? We should go over the dical equipnt bids."

She nodded, composure back in place. "Thursday works. And don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I said, standing. Then, because I couldn't help myself: "You know, for soone who's supposedly cold and calculating, you're surprisingly easy to fluster."

Her violet eyes snapped to mine. "And for soone who's supposedly just a normal high school student, you're surprisingly perceptive."

The words hung in the air between us. A challenge. A question.

I held her gaze for a mont. "Maybe we're both full of surprises."

She studied , and I could almost see the gears turning behind those sharp eyes. "Perhaps," she finally said. "But so secrets are better left uncovered, Leon."

"Where's the fun in that?" I replied, heading for the door. "See you Thursday, Shitori-senpai."

Outside of all the corporate devil business, I'd been keeping busy. The Arcanum Grimoire was finally complete, and I'd been experinting with it every night in my underground bunker.

Magic. Real, honest-to-goodness magic.

Not the cheap party tricks humans called magic. Not even the complex ritual magic that human sorcerers used. This was the real deal—raw magical energy shaped by will and intent.

The grimoire made it possible. It read my mana, interpreted my intent, and constructed the necessary formulas. All I had to do was provide the power and direction.

I was still in the basics phase—fireballs, shield barriers, simple elental manipulation. But I was learning fast. The grimoire wasn't just a tool; it was a teacher. Each spell I cast taught more about how magic worked, how to shape it, control it.

And man, was it addictive.

There's sothing about holding fire in your palm, about feeling wind respond to your command, that's just... intoxicating. Power, pure and simple.

I created a small fla in my hand, watching it dance across my fingers without burning. Control was getting easier. Precision, too.

I'd even started developing my own spells—nothing too crazy yet, but unique combinations that played to my strengths. A mana-infused punch that created a concussive shockwave on impact? Definitely my favorite so far.

After manifesting a dozen Senzu beans (enough for any ergency), I'd shifted my focus. Now all three manifestation slots were dedicated to Laevateinn—that apocalyptic fire sword that makes even gods think twice. With the combined slots accelerating the process, it was down to just 60 days left. Two months, and I'd have a weapon capable of burning through... well, practically anything.

Just in ti, too. The canon tiline was approaching, and I needed every advantage I could get.

My nightly devil hunts had gotten more efficient as well. No more just punching my way through problems. Now I had options—trapping them in magical barriers, hitting them with targeted elental attacks, or just good old-fashioned magical enhanced beatdowns.

Hayama had noticed the change, of course. Nothing escaped that man.

"Your training sessions have beco more... colorful," he observed one evening as I returned, slightly singed but victorious.

"Just expanding my skill set," I replied, rolling my shoulders. "Can't rely on brute force forever."

He nodded, expression neutral as always. "Indeed. Though perhaps less fire indoors would be advisable. The smoke detectors are quite sensitive. And this training area is designed to without outside forces not inside."

I had to laugh. Only Hayama could make "please don't burn down the mansion with your magical experints" sound like a gentle suggestion about interior decorating.

"I'll keep that in mind," I promised.

With the grimoire, the armor, and my ongoing physical training, I was feeling more prepared than ever. The countdown to canon events continued—less than a year now before Issei's fateful eting with Yuuma/Raynare.

Speaking of Issei, he was still... well, Issei. Perverted, loud, obnoxious, and sohow still endearing in his sheer commitnt to being himself.

"Dude, dude, dude!" he practically tackled in the hallway at school. "Have you seen the new transfer student? She's got legs for days!"

"I've been in etings all morning," I replied, extracting myself from his grip. "So of us have responsibilities."

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Important Business Guy," he waved dismissively. "But seriously, you gotta see her. She makes the kendo team look like—"

"If you finish that sentence, they'll never find your body," I cut him off, hearing footsteps approaching. Sure enough, two kendo team mbers rounded the corner, giving Issei death glares as they passed.

"They love ," he whispered, completely oblivious. "They're just playing hard to get."

"They're playing 'how not to commit murder,'" I corrected. "And you're making it very difficult for them."

Issei just grinned, undeterred as always. "One day they'll see my charm. Just like one day I'll have my harem!"

If only he knew what was coming. The harem part might actually co true, but the price... well, it wasn't going to be pretty.

Sotis I wondered if I should warn him. Drop so hint about suspicious girlfriends or tell him to avoid the park after dark. But changing the tiline could have consequences I couldn't predict. For all I knew, warning Issei might make things worse.

So I just shook my head and said, "Keep dreaming, buddy."

As I walked to class, I felt that familiar prickle on the back of my neck. The sensation of being watched. It had been happening more frequently lately—that feeling of eyes tracking from sowhere just out of sight.

I casually glanced around, enhanced senses searching for anything unusual. Nothing obvious, but...

There. Just for a second. Faint but unmistakable.

Soone was definitely keeping tabs on . Question was: who? And why?

Between devil etings, magic training, stray devil hunting and mysterious stalkers, life had gotten considerably more complicated since that dinner three months ago.

And sothing told it was only going to get more interesting from here.