Chapter 258: Blessing (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 258: Blessing (1)
An altar-like structure rose into the stone-gray sky, piercing toward the pitch-black sun. At its summit, Kuarne rested his chin on an armrest, receiving his subordinate's report.
"The human forces engaged the golems in a field battle. Lord Permush fought an all-out war against Aaron Nibelung's descendant, only to fall at 'that man's' hands in the end. Furthermore, it is said he joined hands with the head of the Hero Association and commanded angels like servants."
The High Elf subordinate didn't dare lift her head. She lay prostrate, relaying what she had heard.
Kuarne's expression remained unchanged throughout the report. With dull, emotionless eyes, he merely looked down upon all creation.
Sweat poured from the High Elf. Delivering this report was sheer agony for her. The death of the 4th Corps Commander—and considering Kuarne's origins, "angels" was an inherently sensitive topic.
"...'That man,' you say."
Kuarne quietly muttered. Half-hidden by snow-white eyelashes, his white eyes swirled with a void deeper than the abyss.
As a suffocating silence reigned for a moment, the High Elf's long ears perked up. She involuntarily raised her head.
"Hahaha!"
She saw Kuarne looking up at the black sun, bursting into mad laughter. Thick insanity leaked from his pure white pupils.
Kuarne's hands scratched violently at his cheeks. Flesh peeled off under his fingernails like bark.
"...L-Lord Kuarne?"
The High Elf gasped. As if it had never happened, the laughter ceased. Kuarne slowly turned to look at her.
"..."
"...!"
The High Elf froze in horror. Belatedly, she repeatedly slammed her forehead against the stone ground.
"I-I beg for forgiveness!"
Kuarne walked over with steady steps and squatted at her feet. In the High Elf's sight, only two pale, delicate feet appeared. She begged repeatedly to his long toes.
"Do you think I have lost my mind?"
Kuarne spoke in a flat, inorganic voice. With her forehead pressed to the ground, the High Elf frantically shook her head.
"N-Never! How could I harbor such a sacrilegious thought in your noble presence? This humble servant considers seeing Lord Kuarne pleased to be the utmost honor of her clan!"
"..."
Instead of answering, Kuarne reached out. Grabbing her chattering jaw, he examined her pale face from side to side.
"Your face has withered."
"A-Ah, no. I am alright."
"I am not alright looking at it. Therefore, it is not alright."
Kuarne's speech and actions lacked coherence. He was simply that kind of person. No one knew what schemes were brewing inside that head of his.
"Please, spare my life..."
The High Elf cast her eyes down as far as possible. Even so, Kuarne's face remained burned into her vision. The scarred corners of his mouth were pulled up high.
"Tell me. What color are my eyes and hair?"
"They are a pure white, far more dazzling than snow."
At the High Elf's flattery, Kuarne slowly shook his head.
"No. From head to toe, I am as black as that sun."
What is he talking about? Cold sweat beaded on the bridge of the High Elf's nose. A stream of blood bled from her ruptured forehead, running down the bridge of her nose.
For now, she squeezed out a weak smile.
"T-That is correct. Lord Kuarne is a darkness as brilliant as that firm sun."
Kuarne wiped the bridge of her nose with his index finger, then licked it into his mouth.
"This flavor..."
After sucking his finger clean, an evil expression spread across his face.
"...is the taste of a liar."
"Lord Kuarne... Kugh-khk!"
That dying scream was her last breath. As Kuarne contorted his beautiful face, an orb the size of a fist formed near the High Elf's solar plexus.
"The reason you die here today is because you placed me on equal footing with That Person just to save your own skin. Furthermore—"
Kuarne growled coldly at the High Elf dying amidst splinters of bone.
"—you failed to address That Person with proper reverence. Is the Almighty one of your friends? Insolent fool, know your place."
Crrruuusch.
"Your sin deserves a hundred million deaths, but I hold in high regard that you genuinely mourned Permush's passing. Thus, dying in a single moment is my mercy to you."
Even as he spoke, the High Elf was being sucked inward, spiraling and collapsing into herself starting from the area nearest the sphere. Her skin crumpled like a dishcloth, her skeletal frame twisting grotesquely.
The High Elf tried to cast high-tier magic to resist. However, even her magic was voraciously swallowed whole by the oil-colored orb.
Moments later, only emptiness swirled where the High Elf had been. A circular furrow carved in concentric rings was her only remaining trace.
"That Person's advent is not far off."
Kuarne pressed his hands against his knees and stood up.
"I hear the Academy will soon be on break. Summon my nephew to the Demon Realm."
"I shall send someone at once."
The Majin standing behind the throne with her hands folded behind her back nodded. She was Kuarne's aide. With the Corps Commanders falling one after another, she had become the second-highest ranking entity in Gehenna.
"It will be nice to see his face after so long."
Kuarne gave a faint nod and tilted his head back.
"My beloved nephew, Leon von Reinhardt."
High in the heavens, the black sun tilted. Faint shadows cast by the dark rays throbbed like living masses.
* * *
Sip.
Academy Principal Medea took a sip of black tea and lifted her eyes. She looked at the woman sitting opposite her. Because they looked identical, for a moment it felt like looking in a mirror.
'...Though unlike me, her face looks glowing. Look at that shine on her skin.'
Medea let out a heavy sigh. Her twin sister, Meain, was slumping on the sofa, practically lying down.
"Don't you know sighing makes you age faster? Even Ancients need skincare. You look like you've aged quite a bit while running the Academy anyway."
Medea was flabbergasted. Hearing this from someone actively demonstrating the word 'sloth' as a performance art made her even more dumbfounded.
"I don't think that's something the person who dumped the Principal position on me should be saying, Former Principal. Or do you want to take the job back right now, huh?!"
Meain waved her hand dismissively.
"Not a chance."
Medea mentally carved the character for 'patience' three times over, resisting the urge to plant a fist in that giggling face.
"I prefer getting a steady paycheck over being the one paying it. And frankly, the Principal's salary is peanuts compared to the workload."
"..."
It wasn't easy. The teacup in her hand trembled violently. A quiet typhoon whirled inside the cup.
"There's barely any difference between an instructor's salary and the Principal's, you know? After taxes, I might even be making more. But the best part is that the work environment is super comfortable! If I want to rest, I just assign self-study. Being an instructor is a total wage-thief gig. Ah, relative to the Principal's job, of course."
Meain adjusted her glasses, smirking out the left corner of her mouth.
"My name is Meain, and I'm a wage thief."
A crisp parody of a serial killer masquerading as a detective. Ever since they were young, Meain was a master—no, a deity—at teasing her younger sister.
"And why, pray tell, did our dear wage thief fail to join the Permush Subjugation War?"
Medea forced the corners of her mouth up, straining behind her jaw, squeezing out the sweetest voice possible. Her heart, however, was thumping with irritation.
"I wanted to go, of course. But the Heavenly Sword came to me privately and asked me to leave up to the 4th Corps Commander to him, and instead focus on training the Heaven Class kids."
"So, is the Sword Demon doing his job well, pray tell? Because if he isn't, I'll just fire him and put someone else in his place, pray tell. There are plenty of people eager to work besides you, sister."
Meain gestured casually toward the table with her eyes.
"The report's right there. Read it yourself, yo-yo-yo."
Medea immediately scanned the report in detail. Her double-lidded eyes burned as if ready to chew the paper to bits.
'Please, let there be just one mistake, just one.'
Her mint-colored pupils darted rapidly up, down, left, and right. Decades as the Principal had naturally gifted Medea speed-reading skills.
"Grades... personal records... personality profiles for each student..."
The report was meticulously organized by category. Perfect. Which made it all the more infuriating. If she had done a bad job, Medea could have scolded her... Damn it!
In the middle of reading, Medea slightly knit one eyebrow. Shifting her gaze away from the print, she turned the document face down.
Medea asked, "Leon von Reinhardt. Isn't his growth rate a bit too explosive?"
Meain slowly lowered her head from where it rested against the back of the sofa. She nodded heavily, as if she had been waiting for that question.
"You're right. Even considering he's a Hero, it's far too fast."
"Compared to the Sword Demon?"
"The Heavenly Sword subjugated three Corps Commanders all by himself. Naturally, Leon can't even reach his knees. However..."
Meain leaned her upper body forward. She tapped the back of the report as if knocking on a door.
"...his potential doesn't fall behind Kang Geomma's in the slightest. He was born with it—in terms of his 'vessel'."
"I heard from the Sword Demon earlier. Leon... he's a Nephilim, right? Did you know too?"
"Only a guess. The very existence of Nephilim is something that only appears in legends. Though technically the same could be said for us Ancients, but anyway."
As the Poison sisters talked, the air in the Principal's office grew colder. The tea cooled down as well, its aroma fading.
Medea drank the cold tea to wet her dry throat. Then, reheating her cup back to warmth, she spoke.
"Putting aside the fact that Leon's hometown is the Demon Realm... who are his biological parents? It's not like you lived in the Demon Realm for nothing—you must have some idea, right?"
"I don't know about his mother, but I have a pretty good idea about his biological father."
Meain filled her cup as well. Holding the teacup against her lips, she said, "You know about the fallen angels from the Mythic Era, right?"
"Of course, I heard about them from Dad all the time when we were young."
The Poison family was descended from the Ancients who had been slaughtered by the angels. Among modern humanity, they held the closest ties to myth. Thus, they knew the forbidden history well.
"The angels who served as the proxies of the heavens. Among them, the most radiant angels formed a group. That was Grigori. You've heard Dad mention them before, haven't you?"
The younger sister nodded at her older sister's question.
"Yeah. I have."
"Grigori's purpose was to carry out the gospel of the heavens to the letter. To put it bluntly, they were henchmen. Just ridiculously powerful ones. But what do you know? That very Grigori betrayed the heavens. Their leader was Azazel—the former name of Kuarne, who now acts as the leader in the Demon Realm."
"I heard about that from the Sword Demon before. He said he heard it by chance when he went to the Nephilim Shrine."
"I don't know why Kuarne was acting as a priest there, but... besides Kuarne, there were Samael, Lukifel, Sandalphon, and so on... In any case, a rebellion was plotted under the leadership of the strongest among the angels. In short, they launched a coup against the gods. What their justification was remains unclear. Honestly, it's silly to dissect the details—it's literally a myth."
Meain moistened her lips with tea and set her cup down with a clatter. Calming her gaze, she continued.
"Grigori's rebellion ended in failure. Complete, absolute failure."
"How do you know the outcome when you don't even know their motive?"
"I just told you. Kuarne was Azazel. If the rebellion had succeeded, would he be cowering in the Demon Realm like that? Besides, the reason Kuarne is acting like that is because except for him, Grigori was virtually wiped out. And by a single angel put forward by the gods, no less."
"A single angel took on all of them? Is that even possible?"
Meain snorted with a chuckle.
"Why not? Even the nearly infinite gods were practically wiped out by a single being. Grigori just met the same fate. Kuarne, who was the strongest among them, fought roughly on par, but the fact remains that he lost."
"So... who was that angel, and what does it have to do with Leon's birth?"
"Gosh, stop rushing me. You've always lacked patience whenever you get curious about something."
"Fine..."
Medea sulked. Finding the sight adorable, Meain spoke up again.
"Thirty-six wings, Kuarne's brother, and the chief of all angels—the name of God's Apostle was Metatron."
Pausing for a brief moment, Meain spoke again.
"Metatron's blood relative—that's Leon."
* * *
Ryozo and Abel glare at me simultaneously.
““It’s me or her. Decide.””
The exact same words, angry glares, pouting lips. On top of that, they even stood side-by-side with their cheeks pressed together, perfectly united down to their sharp gazes. Even if they had rehearsed this, they couldn't have pulled it off so seamlessly.
Anyhow.
...What in the world is happening the moment I get discharged from the hospital?
The incident traces back to a day ago.