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Parallel scene: the life of Asia Argento.
The sky hung heavy, like the cloak of a weary king, weighed down by gray clouds, ready to weep. The church bell rang — DONG... DONG... — echoing across the small Italian village, announcing that something had changed forever.
On the cold step of the church door, a baby cried — fragile and abandoned, wrapped in a blanket thinner than a sigh. Tears mixed with the rain that had just begun to fall, as if Heaven itself mourned the fate of that child. And so began the life of Asia Argento.
Father Bartolomeo found her hours later, trembling, nearly frozen, but alive. He lifted her carefully, looking deep into her green eyes, which gleamed like emeralds beneath the faint moonlight, sensing—without knowing how—that this girl would be special… perhaps too special for this imperfect world.
Asia grew up surrounded by the worn, white walls of the church, her childish laughter echoing through the hallways, bringing a strange joy to the usually somber place. The girl seemed to attract light, a walking sunbeam in a village that barely remembered how to smile. The years passed like pages flipped by the wind, and the miraculous gift Asia possessed soon became clear to everyone.
One day, playing in the church courtyard, a wounded kitten appeared — small, trembling, hanging by a thread. She picked it up gently, whispering an innocent prayer:
— Dear God, please help him... — she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut with all her might.
A golden light, almost imperceptible, radiated from her tiny hands. SHHHHH... The cat opened its eyes, stood up, and jumped, meowing happily.
Miracle or curse? For Asia, it was nothing more than a prayer answered by God. For the adults, it was something terrifyingly divine.
Her fame spread quickly. People came from far away to be healed by the blessed child. Asia healed physical wounds with her small hands, unaware that greater wounds were forming around her: envy, fear, and greed were spreading among the villagers.
It was during this time that Diodora Astaroth appeared, smiling like a fairytale prince, bringing with him gifts and promises that enchanted everyone — except the old priest, who saw something dark in the young man's eyes. But his hoarse and tired voice went unheard. Diodora seemed to have a single obsession: Asia Argento.
Young Astaroth planned patiently. Traps are best when disguised as opportunities. Asia, naive as a lamb joyfully walking toward the wolf, trusted Diodora without a second thought. After all, why would such a devout and kind man do anything wrong?
The day of the grand ceremony arrived. Asia, dressed in pure white, knelt before the altar, ready to devote her life fully to Heaven. But before she could complete her final prayer, a strange feeling coursed through her body. Something was wrong — deeply wrong.
— Asia Argento! — Diodora shouted, with false theatrical indignation. — You, who claim to be faithful, dare to profane this temple with a demonic gift?
Asia's eyes widened, lost, confused, like someone waking from a beautiful dream into a merciless nightmare.
— W-what do you mean? I just help… God gave me this gift… — she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.
But the crowd was already infected by the fear carefully planted by Diodora.
"Witch! Demon! Heretic!" The voices blended into a cruel cacophony — the chorus that accompanies a foretold tragedy.
Diodora stepped forward with a malicious smile, extending his hand to touch her. But before his fingers could reach Asia — ZAP! — a golden lightning bolt descended, as swift and final as divine judgment, vaporizing the young man before the terrified eyes of all. Only dust remained, scattered across the church's cold floor.
The silence that followed was more terrifying than any scream. The faithful, stunned, stepped back as if Asia were a ticking bomb.
— Leave, all of you! Get out of this place! — the old priest cried, wrapping Asia protectively in his tired arms.
Days later came the final decision. Asia was expelled, excommunicated, abandoned — just like the day she was born. Alone once again, she walked the streets with the weight of the world on her shoulders, tears marking her pale face, not understanding why God seemed to have forsaken her.
At the height of her despair, a gentle light surrounded her. Not a light of judgment, but one of welcome — like a warm hug on a cold night.
— Asia… — whispered a warm voice, familiar and yet distant. — You are not alone. Come with me.
Guided by that invisible presence, her steps led her far from there, across cities and borders, without hunger, without thirst, protected by something greater. Until finally, a house appeared before her — ordinary and welcoming.
The door opened before she could knock, revealing a boy with messy hair and gentle eyes that seemed to understand all the world's pain.
— You're Asia Argento, aren't you? — he asked, smiling softly, as if he had been waiting for her for a long time. — Welcome to your new home.
Asia felt her heart lighten instantly. Behind her, something glowed gently — two pairs of white wings, invisible to all except the Presence that had brought her here. Her past, full of pain and rejection, had finally culminated in redemption.
Yuki Rito reached out his hand to her, without judgment, without condemnation. Just smiling like someone who had always waited for that moment.
And, in that instant, Asia knew: she was no longer a lost child, nor a fallen nun in disgrace. She was something greater now — a reborn angel, a precious card in the celestial deck of the very Presence.
(A/N: "I hope you enjoyed this episode. I just wanted to show that the world has changed — just like Asia — as seen, for example, in the Holy Sword Experiment. I'll also reveal what the devils did to keep reincarnating people as Half-Demons. In other words, reincarnation still exists, but many of the former pieces that once held sacred gear have lost them. But Ajuka isn't stupid, and he quickly adapted the Evil Pieces.")