The Angel Eybol

The angel Eybol.

He was the third son of the Sky Castle Lord. This generation's lord had an unusual number of children, and he was famous for cherishing every one of them without favoritism. Eybol was a wastrel if ever there was one, yet he had been showered with his father's love all the same—and that was precisely why his wickedness only grew worse. He had killed innocent angels without a second thought, and more than once he had plundered villages of no great size.

Plenty of people despised him. No one could put him down with their own hands. That was the reality, and there was no getting around it. His backing was problem enough, but Eybol had also been raised on nothing but the finest things, and so he possessed power far beyond that of other angels. He was not simply throwing his weight around on the strength of his father's name. Without real power behind him, he could die to the enemy standing in front of him. That much was obvious.

And now those cheeks of his were twitching. His eyes were wide with terror, his body hunched in on itself, both arms thrown up to shield his head.

"You're not the Castle Lord, right?"

"Yes! Yes, that's right!"

"Then why did you do it?"

"I forgot my place and ran my mouth. I'm sorry."

His lips were split, and one cheek had swollen grotesquely, yet Eybol enunciated every syllable. He wanted to live.

The Castle Lord's son and that knight-order brat have thicker hides than the rest. A player born with a silver spoon in his mouth was bound to be strong. Even so, to Yujun they amounted to nothing more than swans among ducks.

He fell to weighing what he ought to do with them. They didn't seem to know who he was, but they already knew an undead was traveling at his side. If someone questioned them later, that alone might be enough for them to recall him. Sparing even one of them meant accepting a measure of risk.

He had just turned to talk it over with Manuela when the air hissed.

"Die, you lowborn bastard!"

The angel who had boasted that his father served in the Celestial Knight Order hurled a sharp dagger. Thrown from point-blank range, it must have looked like the perfect chance. Yujun simply raised an arm and knocked it aside. Steel rang. He was wearing gauntlets, and the dagger, of course, could not pierce their defense.

"…"

"Thanks for sparing me the dilemma. You share a fate now."

The blade bit through. Yujun killed every last one of them.

He had thought them too weak to grant him so much as a level. One had risen after all. So their levels were high. For enemies of that level, they had been absurdly easy.

"Wait. Thinking about it, Sertiphs said he was the son of the Second Archangel, didn't he? Does that mean the Second Archangel is definitely not one of the Demon God Worshippers?"

"No. That, you can never be sure of." Manuela's face had gone serious. "Well, nothing's certain yet anyway."

That was when it happened. Right on cue, a message appeared to tell him that synchronization had reached 116 percent.

Yujun broke into a beaming smile. At last. He could bring over No-Pay Casual Gamer's items. He couldn't choose them himself, but he knew that the higher the synchronization rate climbed, the rarer and finer the goods that came through. He couldn't help expecting something.

At this rate, even getting one meeting with Atradeon is going to be rough. Even so, he couldn't put off checking what the synchronization had sent. He had waited far too long for this, and looking over items wouldn't take long anyway.

He opened his inventory and searched out the space he had deliberately left empty for whatever would be transferred.

What? Yujun's eyes went round. Dozens of them came through? The synchronization rate hadn't been climbing all that slowly, so he hadn't expected this many. Now I'm getting nervous for no reason. It was entirely possible that all he had received were dozens of shoddy items and nothing more. Cold sweat trickled down his face.

"Please…"

"Hm? What's wrong?"

"Give me a minute. I need to sort my inventory."

"Okay."

Yujun drew a long breath and slowly began checking the transferred items.

"Hss…"

His face grew steadily harder. It was a letdown. They were clearly Mythic-grade equipment above level 500, and still his expression soured.

It was undeniably a good item. It was also armor whose performance fell well short of what he was already wearing, and its level requirement was a full thirty lower besides. Being able to call on Yortun's soul seemed to be its greatest merit, but the promise of a splitting headache was enough to put him off from the start.

Several weapons had come through as well, and none of them, of course, could compare to the Planet Destroyer's Sword. He hadn't expected anything on the weapon side to begin with. The accessories were the same story. Mythic grade, level 500 and above—and still inferior to what he had equipped. Which meant he could not upgrade his gear.

Damn… Put them all up for auction and he could earn tens of billions without breaking a sweat. He could say with confidence that they were worth at least ten billion. The problem was that none of it was any use to him right now.

I haven't looked through all of them yet… Four pieces of armor remained at the end. He was too uneasy to check their options, but these had a finer look than everything that had come before. Please be better than the Absolute Omnipotence set I'm wearing…

He had never believed in gods. Now that he knew they existed, he even prayed, hoping his voice would reach the very being who had brought him to this place as he opened the options.

"Demigod?"

An item so broken he had hardly dared hope for it had come through after all. The options were enough to leave his mouth hanging open. This is insane. Just how much does this raise every stat?

But the restriction demanded more than a level. He needed the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠standing of a Demigod—or a total of pure stats past five thousand. These conditions are absurd. What are my stats again?

Running the numbers in his head, he came to 4,802. That figure didn't include Chaos, but the fact that he still couldn't put the Demigod armor on suggested Chaos was not a pure stat. Fortunately, he had unallocated points.

I'll spend them all. Not one stat lacked weight, so he distributed them evenly—one hundred ninety-six points into each of the four. With that, his unallocated stats finally hit zero, and he met the requirements to equip the Demigod Armor Set.

The set carried no unusual special options. What it did carry was everything that yielded the greatest efficiency: all stats, attack, and defense. Options of that kind were uncommon to begin with, and the numbers themselves were staggering. The set effect was no different. Add the armor together, and it might just stand shoulder to shoulder with the Planet Destroyer's Sword.

Of course, the Demigod Armor Set was still Mythic grade. Raise it to Transcendence Grade with a Transcendent Stone, and the change would be even more certain. He had no intention of using a Transcendent Stone just yet, though. The set effect was the reason. He possessed only three Transcendent Stones, and the armor set had four pieces. If even one piece fell out of line, the set effect would not activate. He would have to get his hands on at least one more stone somehow.

I'll be satisfied here. Even without climbing to Transcendence Grade, the Demigod Armor Set was already exceptional. He judged there was no need to raise its grade if it meant throwing the set effect away. This transfer is a real jackpot. The side items were, in practice, things he could sell for a tremendous price, and the main piece—the Demigod armor—was outstanding beyond precedent.

I'll take it as a Christmas present. Thanks, No-Pay Casual Gamer. The character he had raised was paying him back like a devoted son, and that alone was enough to please him.

He equipped the Demigod's Full Armor, the Demigod's Gauntlets, the Demigod's Greaves, and the Demigod's Helm.

"Ooh."

Strength seemed to brim through his entire body. The Absolute Omnipotence set he had been wearing felt like garbage by comparison. I actually feel as if I've become a demigod.

"All done?"

At Manuela's question, Yujun nodded, thoroughly satisfied.

"Let's go."

"What about these corpses?"

"Burn them."

"Got it. No, wait. Can I use them as materials?"

"Don't tell me you're making a chimera."

"Yep!"

"…Do what you want. But you can make a chimera even if they aren't magic beasts?"

"Race or whatever, a corpse is a corpse. Doesn't matter."

Manuela busily stuffed the angels' corpses into a large sack.

"…Well. The evidence disposed of itself."

Yujun scoured the floor clean with a small-scale Water Wave and set off at once for the tavern. He walked for about twenty minutes along the avenue where angels flew busily back and forth, and then he reached the place he had been aiming for.

He couldn't tell what script the letters were in, yet he somehow understood the meaning of the sign. For a drinking house stuck in an out-of-the-way corner, the building was rather impressive.

"Paranet. Stoop when you come in. You have to."

"As you command!"

The fellow stood five meters tall—higher than the entrance itself.

Once inside, Yujun went straight to Atradeon and Yenil, who were immediately in view, and dropped his voice.

"Isn't this a little too conspicuous?"

"You refer to me?"

"No. Yenil."

Atradeon was quietly sipping his drink with even his beard concealed. Yenil, by contrast, wore a luxurious robe and showed her face without a hint of shame.

"And how many are there who would know me?"

Yenil was a figure of the past. However famous she might once have been, that had been hundreds of years ago.

"Fair enough…"

Yujun nodded, persuaded.

"How much did you find out?"

"The scale of this matter seems greater than I had thought."

Up close, Atradeon's face was badly worn.

"That, I expected. This is the work of Demon God Worshippers, after all. Was an Archangel involved?"

At Yujun's words, Atradeon shook his head.