Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: 2-2. The New Land Granted to Us
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Metatron snorts at my question.
“Ha! You don’t mean the kind of kiss where you express affection by pressing your lips to someone else’s, do you?”
“…….”
“As expected, human imagination dreams of things that can never come true.”
It’s true I got lost in a little fantasy, but to say it’s something that can never happen...
Just you wait.
I tremble with anger.
“Let go, get up.”
Embarrassed by my own pointless swallow, I push Metatron’s hand away.
She giggles, then gently strokes my hair and forehead. It feels so good that the slight lump in my throat melts away like spring snow.
No, I can’t let that happen. If my expression softens and she notices, it’ll be embarrassing. And it’ll feel like I’ve lost somehow.
Just as I try to force a stern, serious look on my face, something warm and soft touches my forehead.
In that instant, goosebumps like an electric shock run down my neck to my shoulders.
“Eek!”
I can’t hold back the sound. And soon, Metatron’s lips that had touched my forehead pull away.
“For now, this will have to do. It’s my first time kissing someone.”
“……Thank you.”
“Hehe. Why the formal speech all of a sudden? Between us.”
“……No, well.”
The sweetness from the moment her lips touched still lingers, and I don’t know what face to make when looking at her.
“You did really well. I didn’t expect you to go this far.”
Metatron’s hand is now fiddling with my ear.
Maybe because of that, I can’t resist impulse either and, still lying down, reach up to stroke her hair.
Her pale gray locks catch on my fingers before sliding smoothly away like silk.
Metatron lets out a small laugh and leaves my actions be. She, with her exalted true form, permits me to touch her.
And so, for a brief time, we spend moments touching each other.
The more my fingertips brush her here and there, the more intimacy swells within me. So soon, my caresses on Metatron slow. I want to protect my heart.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
I pull my hand away and ask with my eyes what it is.
“You’ve heard, haven’t you? That I killed all my own familiars.”
She brings up a sensitive topic so suddenly that I’m at a loss for words. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about Metatron too.
All of them bad.
But the Metatron I’ve met in person is different from the rumors. That’s why I never asked about or paid attention to the gossip.
I never expected Metatron to bring it up first.
“I only believe what I’ve seen with my own eyes.”
“Thank you for saying that. But I want to talk about it.”
There must be a reason she’s finally opening up about it. I nod in silence.
“To be honest, it’s not wrong. It’s as good as if I killed all my familiars myself.”
So all the stories begin from the day Sandalphon died. Metatron was convinced his death came from a defense-focused strategy and the archangels’ passivity, so she argued for switching to aggressive offense. But her furious assertions fell on deaf ears, save for a few.
Metatron had become rank one through sheer force, but her political acumen was near zero. She was always a step behind at archangel gatherings. So she had no faction to back her claims.
“In the end, I resolved to purge my sanctuary and fight alone. Sandalphon could surely have survived if he’d abandoned his. But he was sacrificed to the stubborn defense strategy we created. From my view, the sanctuary had become nothing but shackles.”
Suddenly, I feel sorry for demanding she redeclare a sanctuary.
“It was dangerous, so I disbanded my familiars. But most stubbornly insisted on staying till the end.”
Her familiar count was small for her position to begin with, she says. Just over a dozen. Compared to rank two Michaela’s hundreds.
“You must’ve been pretty bad with people.”
“I won’t deny it.”
“So what happened to your familiars in the end?”
“It was troubling. They all agreed with me and vowed to follow to the end.”
Though reluctant, Metatron decided to go with them.
But the results were tragic. They fought brilliantly in Gangbuk for years, but one by one they fell, until none remained.
Naturally, such an outcome left even Metatron—who usually wrapped herself in indifference—a deep scar.
“The horrific paradox of my resolve is that my thirst for vengeance against the enemy who slew my true comrades bred sacrifices that could never be undone.”
The operation to turn Gangbuk upside down with her familiars was successful for years, she says. Especially the feat of slaying several Lord-class monsters is still highly regarded today. If not for her few connections.
The consensus is that multiple Lord-class falls slowed the monsters’ push into Gangnam.
The temporary peace humans and angels now enjoy is thanks to Metatron and her familiars’ sacrifices.
So why the sharp criticism toward her now?
That her battles helped is only recently gaining notice. Back then, her fights caused all sorts of commotions, and everyone vented frustration.
Monsters attacked in Gangbuk flew into a rage, triggering several waves that damaged the city badly. And there were other issues too, apparently.
It was heartbreaking.
A hero’s path usually needs societal support. We applaud a brave individual’s heroic acts. But if those acts bring us uncomfortable costs, we can’t understand him. Or rather, we refuse to.
“Why not just stop? If it was hard, you could’ve quit.”
“By then, I couldn’t stop. My fallen kin kept coming to mind. They supported my wish to the end. Believed in me. So how could I abandon rampaging through the hunting grounds?”
The hunting grounds’ life was probably her only link to the familiars she’d never see again.
They’d charged together through Gangbuk to northern Gyeonggi for years. Her intense memories of her familiars were all there.
That’s why she couldn’t quit and leave.
“Didn’t you ever think to ask for help? Some angels supported you, right?”
“It didn’t occur to me. Once my familiars were gone, being alone felt natural.”
With that answer, I come to understand Metatron a little.
She poured all her strength into upholding invisible vows like avenging Sandalphon and not letting her familiars’ deaths be in vain, while being ignorant and neglectful of many practical matters.
That attitude probably made it hard for others to help her too.
She acted alone, building a lonely life on an island few approached. So she’d walked a thorny path.
I feel pity for Metatron.
I sit up and stroke her cheek.
She doesn’t refuse my touch.
“Weren’t you afraid?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I feel no fear before enemies.”
“No, I mean being alone. You’ve been by yourself since losing your familiars.”
“…….”
“You must’ve been scared. You’re like a human. You’re not a real angel.”
Even with the time loop excuse, Metatron permitted me more easily than expected. Even if it was rationalized as killing enemies, she hesitated little.
She was probably exhausted. Sick of it all.
Sick of bearing everything alone.
From what she’s said, she’d wandered like a loner in enemy territory for at least six years. Too harsh a span to endure on memories of dead familiars alone. Her life was constant battle.
Then finally, she went to fight the king.
Maybe she wanted an end her way. But she failed and, fleeing, met me. It’s no wonder if she sought hope in me. No one had burst into her life like I did in all those years.
“…….”
Metatron has no reply. Admitting fear must be a tough incantation for this proud being. I won’t force her.
But one thing must be clear.
“Metatron, if you want to escape your current path of walking alone, there’s one thing you must say. If you don’t make it clear, our relationship will end as the temporary one we agreed on before. Tarha, Urukel, Hadam, Karnum—all slain or subdued. Our goal is achieved.”
Metatron’s eyes begin to waver darkly.
But even if I pity her, some lines must be drawn.
I think of it like signing a contract.
“What should I... no, what should I say?”
I grip both her hands tightly and demand it.
The words she’s never once uttered, trapped in her own resolve.
“Say it with that mouth of yours. ‘Please help me.’”
Metatron’s pupils dilate in an instant.
Her face shows shock. She probably never said it to her cherished familiars either. They’d followed her willingly.
But Metatron must learn now.
To seek help from others instead of maintaining her isolated, lonely island life.
I want to teach her that.
“Metatron. I want to help you. Gladly serve as your incarnation. But if you just accept it silently, I become no different from your old familiars. And you remain the same as before.”
She must change now.
“If you don’t ask for help outright, the regrets will repeat. Back then, you didn’t start right with your familiars. You accepted their goodwill wordlessly and gave no proper bond in return. Everything stayed unresolved, lingering in your heart. And when your familiars died, you couldn’t even let them think they’d done their utmost at the Metatron they revered.”
Pitifully, they died loving her from afar.
“Ah…….”
“Metatron, you won’t give me a proper relationship either?”
Metatron’s face twists in agony.
“I understood nothing. Gave nothing back to my kin’s hearts.”
“So tell me. Then even in death, I can close my eyes with pride. As the one the foremost of angels, Metatron, relied on.”
Sadly, Metatron was immature.
Born just twenty years ago, most spent in battle. Even referencing human creations to shape herself, she was full of shortcomings. Other angels would’ve handled this flexibly. Michaela would’ve, Suiel would’ve—differently from Metatron.
“Hic, sniff. Sob.”
Suddenly, tears burst from Metatron’s eyes.
She tries to stem the flood with small hands, but it’s useless. Her shoulders just tremble more.
“At least don’t fear asking me for help. I’m your incarnation.”
“Can I rely on you?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. You’re an idiot, even more than Suiel.”
Soon, Metatron looks up at me, forcing back sobs.
Her face, biting her lip to hold tears, is a total mess.
“Hic! Sniff!”
She seems resolved but hesitates long, and longer.
Then finally, barely, she utters words she’s never said to anyone.
“…Please help me.”
That was enough.
The moment a true contract forms between Yu Jea and Metatron. No more “temporary” between us.
I can’t hold back and pull her into an embrace.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
I hope my arms comfort this strong but small angel.
Of course, I won’t arrogantly claim to fully understand Metatron from this glimpse. We’ve just brushed surfaces; I’ve gained only a small understanding there.
So, that’s why.
I hope for more touches, more bonds with Metatron ahead.