(A/N):
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Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Cecellia's question still hung in the air when Jojo paused.
For a heartbeat, he simply looked at her.
"...."
Not with judgment. Not with pity.
But with the quiet focus of someone who understood pain too well.
That look alone made Cecellia flinch—her shoulders tightening, breath catching.
"...."
She had just witnessed the battle before. She didn't know what to expect from him.
Jojo stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately. Giving her time to pull away if she wanted to.
She didn't. He raised his hand and gently placed it over her abdomen, right where the pain still lingered—where her body had been damaged by the forced pregnancy something that never should have existed.
The moment his palm made contact, a soft glow bloomed.
Not the violent hellfire she had seen moments ago.
This was different.
Pale, radiant flames—almost feathered in the way they moved—spread across his fingers and into her body.
They didn't burn. They didn't sting.
Instead, warmth flowed through her.
Deep. Comforting.
Cecellia gasped—not in pain, but surprise.
-Gasp
The agony in her stomach eased. The tearing sensation faded.
The bleeding slowed… then stopped.
Her breathing steadied as strength returned to limbs that had felt hollow seconds ago.
And then she realized what the warmth reminded her of.
Her eyes widened. It felt like being held.
Like her mother's arms when she was little.
Like the moment she had drowned as a child—when everything went dark, cold… and then suddenly warm again, as if something had pulled her back and whispered not yet.
Tears slid down her cheeks without her realizing it.
"...."
"I thought it would hurt,"
She whispered shakily still shocked.
Jojo smiled faintly, eyes softly, While he said quietly.
"Fire doesn't always mean destruction, Sometimes it just reminds the body how to live."
The light slowly faded.
-Puff
With a soft puff, the angelic flames vanished completely, leaving only Jojo's hand—warm, human—before he gently stepped back.
Cecellia touched her stomach instinctively.
No pain. No weakness. Just… calm.
She looked up at him again, swallowing hard.
-Gulp
"So… what are you really?"
She asked again, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jojo tilted his head, a hint of mischief breaking through the gravity.
He gave her a small wink.
-Wink!
"Believe it or not, I fall under all those categories."
He said lightly,Then a pause as he added.
"Human enough to care, Devil enough to burn monsters. And just enough of an angel to make sure people like you get a second chance."
Cecellia let out a shaky laugh through her tears.
-Hehe
For the first time since arriving at the convent, she felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.
"...."
Jojo studied Cecellia for a moment longer, then spoke again—this time more gently.
"So, what do you want to do now?"
The question hit harder than any monster.
Cecellia's faint smile faltered.
"...."
Her gaze drifted downward, fingers curling into the fabric of her habit as if it could anchor her and admitted honestly.
"I… don't know,"
Her voice trembled, not with fear this time, but shame as she continued.
"How do I even go back? I was chosen to be a nun by my very own free will. I believed it with everything I had. Now…"
She swallowed her words become heavier and heavier.
-Gulp
"I was used. Defiled by a demon. I gave birth to that thing."
Her hands shook just thinking about what happened to her after she came to this convent.
"Even if I didn't lose my virginity… no church will ever take me back. They won't see the truth. They'll only see sin."
Silence filled the broken convent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Jojo exhaled slowly, a tired sigh carrying centuries of familiarity with stories just like hers and he spoke.
"You're wrong about one thing,"
She looked up hearing his words.
"You weren't defiled,"
Jojo continued calmly.
"You were victimized. There's a difference. The church may not care to learn it—but that doesn't define you."
Cecellia's eyes welled up again.
-Sob -Sob
Before she could speak, Jojo went on.
"You survived something most people wouldn't. And you didn't break. That alone tells me you're stronger than you think."
He paused, then added casually, as if offering coffee instead of a life-altering choice.
"Ever heard of DMC?"
She blinked caught off gaurd by the question.
"DMC…?"
Hearing her Jojo nodded he already knew she have no idea about DMC, But to change the topic and invite her to DMC, since he had already healed her using his Angle flames he intend to do it.
Since he could feel this girl a white lite hallow. As he spoke.
"Devil May Cry, My organization."
Caroline raised an eyebrow knowingly. Inadu stayed silent, watching Cecellia carefully.
"...."
"...."
While Jojo continued his explanation.
"We deal with things like this, Demons. Curses. Gods pretending to be angels. Places the world pretends don't exist."
Hearing him Cecellia hesitated.
"...."
"I'm not a fighter. I don't know magic or have any power like you guys. I don't even know who I am anymore."
Jojo nodded and tries to convince her and encourage her.
-Nod
"That's fine.."
He gestured lightly toward her belly as he spoke.
"You were healed by angelic flames, That doesn't just close wounds. Sometimes… it leaves a mark. Sensitivity. Resistance. Potential."
Her breath caught.
"...."
"And if that's not enough,"
Jojo added, his tone steady but serious now,
"you could enter a contract with me."
Inadu's gaze sharpened slightly—but she didn't object this was the second time she had seen him use it.
She understood this must be his newly gained ability.
"I wouldn't own you,"
Jojo clarified immediately.
"No chains. No obedience. Just power—enough to protect yourself and help others like you. You'd keep your will. Always."
Cecellia stared at the floor, her mind racing.
"...."
A nun no longer welcome in the church.
A woman carrying the memory of something monstrous.
A future that had collapsed overnight.
But also—A chance to mean something again. A chance to stand against the very horrors that broke her.
She closed her eyes. For the first time, she wasn't praying to a god that never answered.
"...."
She was thinking for herself. And spoke in low voice as if she was not sure.
"I need time, To think."
Jojo smiled—not impatient, not disappointed.
"That's the right answer, Take all the time you need."
He turned slightly, giving her space, then added over his shoulder.
"But if you decide to walk forward instead of hiding… DMC will be waiting."
Inadu stepped forward, her expression turning solemn—serious. Then she spoke softly.
"This ends now,"
She raised both hands, palms outward, fingers slowly curling as dark veins briefly traced beneath her eyes.
The air around her thickened, vibrating with power older than the convent itself.
She began to speak—not in any modern tongue, but in the ancient spell-language of witches, the kind whispered long before vampires ever learned to fear magic.
Her voice layered over itself, calm yet commanding.
"Phasmatos tribum…
Memoria solvere…
Lux fallax, veritas mutare…
Quod fuit, oblivio fiat."
The candles throughout the convent flared at once.
Inadu's voice deepened, echoing unnaturally as she continued.
"Per ignem et cinis,
Per dolorem et peccatum,
Mentem frango, memoriam seco—Sic fiat."
She clenched her fist.
An invisible wave burst outward from her body—silent, unstoppable.
It swept through the shattered prayer hall…
Through the corridors… Through the dormitories… Through every room, every stone, every soul within the vicinity.
The wave passed through the nuns, through the unconscious survivors, through the walls themselves.
Where it touched, memories unraveled.
Father Sal. Cardinal Franco. Mother Superior. The rituals. The demon. The birth.
All of it was erased.
In its place, new memories were written—clean, seamless, unquestioned.
A tragic fire. An argument between Cardinal Franco and Father Sal.
An accident that spread too fast. Mother Superior caught in the blaze. No demons. No miracles. No unanswered questions.
Just a terrible, human tragedy.
The spell continued expanding, rolling outward like a tide, ensuring no witness was missed, no loose thread left behind.
Slowly, the air settled.
The candles dimmed back to normal.
Inadu lowered her hands, exhaling—a long breath she didn't realize she'd been holding as she informed.
"It's done,"
Caroline glanced around, sensing the absence more than the change.
"They'll never remember him?"
Inadu shook her head.
"Not Father Sal. Not Franco. Not the truth. To them, this place will always have burned because of human carelessness."
Jojo nodded in approval.
-Nod
"Cleaner that way."
Cecellia, sitting against the wall, looked around hesitantly.
"And… them?"
"They'll wake,"
Inadu replied without hesitation.
"Confused. Grieving. But free."
Outside, sirens could already be heard in the distance—drawn by fire, not by hell.
Cecellia hesitated at the threshold, clutching the borrowed shawl around herself. Her voice trembled—not with fear this time, but uncertainty.
"...."
"…What about me?"
The question hung in the air.
Inadu turned back, her expression calm, almost gentle—an calm that had seen countless lives begin again from ash. As she said evenly.
"You're already free, Father Sal erased your records the moment he chose you. To the convent, you were never meant to stay long—only to be used."
Cecellia's eyes widened hearing her.
"You mean… I don't exist to them anymore?"
While Inadu nodded.
-Nod
"Not as a nun. Not as a vessel. And not as a sinner."
Before Cecellia could respond, the air above them rippled.
With a soft thud, a suitcase dropped neatly onto the stone floor beside her—old, worn, unmistakably hers.
-Thud.
Cecellia stared at it, stunned.
"That's… my luggage."
Inadu added calmly,
"I removed you from their memories as well. To the sisters, you left before dawn. No arguments. No suspicion. No questions."
Caroline smirked faintly.
-Smirk
"Clean exit. Can't ask for better."
Debbie exhaled in relief, as if a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying finally lifted.
-Sigh
"...."
Gayathri watched Cecellia carefully, curiosity and sympathy mingling in her eyes.
Cecellia slowly knelt, touching the suitcase as if to confirm it was real.
When she looked up again, her eyes glistened—but this time with something new choice and whispered.
"…Then I can decide,"
Jojo, who had been silent, stepped forward at last.
"...."
His tone was casual, but there was gravity beneath it.
"Yeah. For the first time, you get to choose what comes next."
He gestured toward the exit, where the night air waited—cool, open, endless.
"No gods. No demons. No cages disguised as faith."
Cecellia stood, straightening her shoulders.
The fear that once clung to her was still there—but it no longer owned her.
She picked up her luggage and spoke honestly.
"…I don't know where I belong yet,"
Jojo gave a small, knowing smile.
"Most people don't. That's how real beginnings work."
With that, he turned and walked out.
Caroline followed, then Gayathri and Debbie.
Inadu paused beside Cecellia for a moment and softly spoke.
"You survived something that was never meant to be survived, Whatever you become next—it will be your will."
Cecellia nodded. Then she took her first step out of the convent.
-Nod
"...."
As their car disappeared down the winding road, the night reclaimed the convent.
Minutes later, red and blue lights tore through the darkness.
Fire engines screamed to a halt outside the gates.
Police cars followed, doors slamming as officers rushed forward.
Smoke still curled from shattered windows as firefighters forced their way inside, shouting orders, dragging hoses, searching for survivors.
Nuns were carried out—confused, coughing, some unconscious, others crying in shock.
To them, it was simple.
A tragic fire. An accident. Nothing more.
No one remembered Father Sal. No one remembered the Cardinal. No one remembered the thing that had been born.
And the convent, once a nest of rot masquerading as holiness, was reduced to scorched stone and unanswered prayers.
After 45 minutes...
Forty-five minutes later, far from the chaos, the car rolled through iron gates into a quiet estate tucked away among cypress trees.
The mansion Freya's servants had prepared stood waiting—old European architecture, thick stone walls, warm lights glowing behind tall windows.
Safe. Neutral. Temporary.
Inside, a feast awaited them.
Not ceremonial. Not extravagant.
Just food—real food.
Bread still warm, roasted vegetables, pasta layered with herbs, fruit laid out on silver platters.
The kind of meal that grounded you after walking too close to the abyss.
Cecellia sat quietly at the table at first, hands wrapped around a cup of water, as if afraid it might vanish if she didn't hold on.
Debbie sat beside her, offering a small, encouraging smile.
Gayathri chatted lightly with Caroline, while Inadu leaned back, watching everyone with that unreadable, calm.
Jojo ate without hurry.
For the first time since Italy, there was no urgency pressing against his skull—just the steady hum of inevitability.
When the meal ended, no one lingered.
They all knew this wasn't over.
At the airport, the atmosphere shifted again—crowded terminals, rolling luggage, announcements echoing in multiple languages. Life continuing, oblivious.
Jojo walked a few steps ahead, phone in hand.
His eyes flicked over the data Sara projected onto the screen.
Gladys Lilly.
Last confirmed location: Pennsylvania, Maybrook.
Status: Active. Hostile. Highly experienced.
The name sat heavy.
Old witches didn't survive by luck. They survived by sacrifice.
Jojo slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked at the others and said simply.
"Italy's done, The source wasn't here—it was just another branch."
Caroline adjusted her jacket.
"Pennsylvania, then."
Gayathri exhaled slowly.
"Old witch huh..."
Inadu's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"But it is familiar."
Cecellia hesitated near the boarding gate, then squared her shoulders and stepped forward with them.
"...."
Whatever she was now—whatever she would become—she wasn't turning back.
As their flight was called, Jojo glanced once through the glass wall at the runway beyond.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Guys it was the new cover image I planned to add to this story what you guys think about it.
As for giving power to others. I came up with a idea contract. While someone can gain ability after being exposed to angle fire like Jenny. But this will make him to be able to give a specific power he needed them to have.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!!