Chapter 100
Chapter 100
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Welcome?
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"Is this the weapon?"
"Yes."
"Hmm...."
Camilla picked up the revolver from the table and fiddled with it.
It looked like an ordinary revolver. Even after removing the bullets from the cylinder and inspecting them, it was the same.
"This is the weapon Han U-sol made himself?"
"It looks ordinary since it's mass-produced, but the performance is top-notch. It's highly effective against magic beasts—and even against humans."
"Let me see!"
Betty took the revolver from Camilla.
"Oh! It's cool!"
The exterior was just a plain revolver, but it seemed to match Betty's tastes perfectly. A revolver could never truly look uncool, no matter how ordinary.
Betty closely admired the revolver's design. As she murmured to herself, 'A weapon handmade by Han U-sol and carefully procured by Colton... this is one of a kind!' Camilla couldn't help thinking she was starting to resemble Anis more and more.
"Well, whatever. As long as the performance holds up, I don't care. Got any more spares? The more, the better."
"I'll fetch them right away."
Colton summoned an attendant to bring the weapons. Before long, crates filled with them were carried into the reception room.
Camilla finished chewing her snack, figuring Betty would scoop them all up at once with her ability when they left later.
"Do you know what I've desired most fervently in my entire life?"
Colton lifted his coffee cup and spoke.
"Power."
"I figured as much."
Camilla's response was indifferent. It was far too predictable.
"Not some empty title or position. What I've always craved is overwhelming power—the kind that lets me bend an entire city to my will. That desire has only grown stronger lately."
Colton took a sip of his coffee. The cheap bean aroma tickled Camilla's nose.
"And then you showed up. With some rather convincing words."
"Convincing?"
"That if Yeriel dies and the human population dwindles, a select few among the survivors could become angels."
"Ah."
Camilla let out a small sound, as if she'd forgotten all about it.
"Let me ask once more: this is no lie, correct?"
"No lie. It's the truth."
Camilla replied to the still-skeptical Colton with unwavering conviction.
"Angels aren't invincible. Sure, they're powerful, but get stabbed with a knife and they bleed. Shoot them and they die. If you exaggerate a bit, they're just humans who are stronger and live longer."
Camilla shrugged her shoulders. Colton leaned forward intently, and even Betty, who had been toying with the revolver, began focusing on her words.
"And that's not all. An angel's authority can be inherited. By blood heirs, or even by others if they pay the right price."
"Yeriel herself maintained several inherited authorities."
"Exactly. Doesn't it strike you as odd? Their bodies are practically human, and their authorities aren't absolute—you can meddle with them if you pay the cost. Why design them so sloppily? They should be transcendent beings in an untouchable position."
A breeze drifted in through the high-rise reception room's window. The fluttering curtains brushed against each other, casting faint shadows across the room.
"God really is heartless. If you're going to create something, make it perfect. Why leave it so flawed?"
Near the window, Camilla smiled, her face half-shadowed. Her lips, gleaming smoothly in the sunlight, parted slowly.
"The reason is simple. God never planned to make angels perfect. Quite the opposite—He made them replaceable. All so He could watch the chaos unfold and enjoy the show. What a wicked god."
'By the way, this all came straight from Kahatiel. Credible enough for you?' Camilla added silently.
"Humans replacing angels isn't impossible. Angels' descendants inherit their authorities, don't they? Proof that humans can wield them too."
Of course, half-bloods didn't get eternal life, but from a broader perspective, it counted as temporarily taking an angel's place.
"Maybe even surpass replacement and become a true angel. If the conditions align."
"...And those conditions are?"
"Exactly."
Camilla jerked her chin toward the window.
Whoosh—! Another gust of wind billowed the curtains. Through the flapping fabric, countless people milling about the streets came into view.
"When the last angel—Yeriel—dies, and humanity's numbers drop below a certain threshold. That's when God descends again."
To select new angels and reboot the world.
On the way out of the reception room, Betty fell deep into thought.
The tale Camilla had spun for Colton was entirely new to her.
She'd dismissed it as nonsense at first, but it grew strangely persuasive the more she heard, leaving her wondering, 'Could it actually be true?'
As far as she knew, Kahatiel had never mentioned anything like it. Had he just kept it from her? Betty turned to Camilla.
"Camilla, was that story for real?"
"Idiot. Think it was?"
"Huh?"
Camilla shot her a pitying look.
"Just a dressed-up fabrication."
"Wha... seriously?"
"Dead serious. What if even you bought it?"
Camilla scolded her.
"N-no, I wasn't fooled...! I knew it was BS from the start."
"Really?"
"...Yeah."
Betty dodged Camilla's piercing stare, her eyes darting everywhere. It was a pathetic sight, but Camilla let it slide.
"Fine. If you say so."
"It was obvious nonsense! Anyone could tell!"
"But not from Colton's view."
Mixing truth with lies always sounds plausible.
Especially when it comes from the devil faction's inner circle, not some nobody.
"He'll buy it eventually, doubts or no. The man's enslaved to his lust for power."
A guy with an insatiable hunger for dominance.
Could he really turn away from the promise of power beyond power—an angel's throne?
People only hear what they want, see what they want.
"Heh. Got it. But seriously, why are angels so imperfect?"
"How should I know?"
Betty pressed, but Camilla just shook her head in disbelief, as if to say, Why ask me?
Camilla had no idea why God had designed angels that way.
"Guess He just felt like it."
She chuckled dryly.
Just as cold water has layers, even the lowliest drifters among the refugees had their pecking order.
Gang bosses from X District. Merchant heads who'd dominated shops and rallied the rest.
Even after fleeing X District, they still lorded over the refugees, leading the pack. They sat atop the refugee underclass—at least relatively.
Barrein was one such figure. He'd commanded a sizable gang back then, and even as a refugee, he kept his crew together.
Factions formed amid the exodus from X District, splintering many groups, but Barrein held his intact through the chaos.
"Damn it."
Barrein cursed as he tried lighting his cigarette. The disposable lighter was out of fluid.
He used to spark high-end lighters, not these cheap disposables.
Smoked elegant cigars, not scavenging butts off the ground like some wretch. In his current pathetic state, he suddenly missed the old days.
"Ready? Move out."
Abandoning the cigarette, Barrein prodded his men.
Their target: an abandoned factory tucked in W District's corner. Devil-side contact day.
Barrein led his crew toward it.
His faction wasn't alone.
Other ex-gang factions streamed toward the factory, plain to see.
"Boss! I can't buy this no matter what! Angels die, God returns? Total crap! Hell, can we even trust these devil guys we're meeting? Probably scammers!"
His right-hand man yelled. Heads from other factions turned their way.
"Quiet down."
Reining in the hothead dispersed the stares. Barrein muttered low to a nearby underling.
"That's why we're checking it out. Real devil defector or con artist."
"...And if it's legit?"
His left-hand man chimed in. Barrein paused, lost in thought.
He'd committed countless crimes, lived by them. If forced to pick a side, he was evil, no question.
But defectors were another breed. Traitors to humanity itself, allied with devils for our extinction. Compared to them, Barrein was small-time chaff.
If the factory contact was a true defector... then what?
"...Cross that bridge when we get there."
Barrein shelved the thought.
No home, endless scorn and isolation—life was a dead end. He had to grab something.
Solid rope or rotten? No way to know without checking the factory. Doubtless the other factions en route felt the same.
At the factory, Barrein halted before the iron gate. Movement stirred inside.
"......... "
Someone's there.
—...Anis... right?
—Shut... up... a bit.
Voices leaked out. A man and a woman.
Barrein took a deep breath. Just sensing presences ratcheted his tension.
He gripped the handle, hesitating long—then shoved open the rusted door.
Creak—
"......... "
"......... "
The door swung wide. Silence blanketed the scene—but not the heavy, ominous kind.
A mix of bafflement and sheer ridiculousness.
Barrein stared at the man and woman seated on the dusty factory floor.
They'd laid out a board game and were playing marbles.
The woman, startled by the door, turned with an awkward grin.
"Uh, w-welcome?"
Ebony-black hair. Eyes gleaming vivid blue.
Barely of age. A girl, through and through.
"Uh, um? Hello?"
No response from Barrein. She tried another awkward smile and greeting.
"......... "
Even after two attempts, Barrein just stared. Not lovestruck or anything stupid.
'...What the hell?'
Just wildly off from expectations. He was thrown.
Barrein fixed his gaze on her. He should say something, but the colorful board game sprawled on the floor left him blank. He just stared.
Why a board game in a dump like this? Snacks, chips, drinks scattered everywhere to boot.
'...Who the fuck are these clowns?'
Absurdity short-circuited his brain. His followers, filing in behind, froze in the same stupor—staring silently.
About twenty seconds of locked eyes. The girl's pupils jittered, darting to nowhere.
"Uh, wh-what? Why stare like that? It's creepy...! What now, Han?"
"Never been under this much scrutiny myself. Ask me all you want, I got nothin'... Uh... Ah!"
Got it! The man beside her snapped his fingers with a short gasp.
"We wait for Camilla!"
He smacked his forehead like it was gospel. No ruthless defector vibes whatsoever.
"Boss, these idiots just total morons?"
His underling whispered. Barrein nodded in full agreement.