Chapter 258: Blessing (1)

A sky of gray stone, a completely black sun, and a structure rising like an altar piercing both. At its summit, Kuarne rested his chin on the armrest while receiving his subordinate’s report.

“The human forces engaged the golems in open field, and Lady Fermush confronted the descendant of Aaron Nibelung directly but in the end, she fell to that man. Additionally, it’s reported that this man allied with the leader of the Hero Association and used angels as if they were servants.”

The high elf Suha didn’t dare raise her head. With her forehead pressed to the ground, she delivered the report in a trembling voice.

Kuarne showed no change in expression, either before or after the report. He only gazed upon the world with dull, lifeless eyes, as if they were made of inanimate matter.

The high elf was sweating as though pouring water. Just delivering the report was torture. The death of the Fourth Corps Commander… and given Kuarne’s origin, the subject of angels was particularly sensitive.

“…That man.”

Kuarne murmured in a low voice. In his white pupils, half-hidden beneath snowy lashes, a void deeper than the abyss floated.

Only suffocating silence followed until the high elf’s long ears twitched. She instinctively lifted her head.

“Hahaha!”

Kuarne burst into laughter as he looked up at the black sun. A thick madness overflowed in his white pupils.

He violently scratched his cheeks with both hands. Chunks of flesh peeled off like skin under his nails.

“…K-Kuarne, my lord…”

The high elf gasped. The laughter stopped abruptly, as if it had never existed. Kuarne slowly turned toward her.

“……”

“……!”

The high elf froze. She immediately began banging her forehead against the floor.

“F-forgive me!”

Kuarne approached slowly and crouched in front of her. The elf could only see his pale, elegant feet. She begged and begged before those long toes.

“Do you think I’ve lost my mind?”

Kuarne spoke in a voice devoid of emotion. Without lifting her head, the high elf desperately shook it.

“Impossible! How could I harbor such a blasphemous thought? For this humble servant, seeing my lord rejoice is the greatest glory of my lineage…”

Without responding, Kuarne extended a hand. He took the elf’s trembling chin and examined her pale face.

“You’re injured.”

“N-no, I’m fine…”

“I’m not fine seeing it, so you’re not fine.”

His words made no sense. That was how he was. No one knew what schemes lurked in his mind.

“Please… at least spare my life…”

The elf kept her gaze lowered, yet Kuarne’s face still burned into her retinas. The smile twisted by scars rose from only one corner of his mouth.

“Tell me, what color are my eyes and hair?”

“Purer than snow, of a radiant white…”

At such praise, Kuarne softly shook his head.

“No. From head to toe, I’m as black as that sun.”

What was he talking about? Cold sweat formed on the bridge of the elf’s nose. A line of blood trickled down her face from her forehead.

She forced a weak smile.

“Y-you’re right… my lord is a radiant darkness like that firm sun…”

Kuarne wiped her nose with his index finger, then brought it to his mouth.

“This taste.”

He sucked the finger with a wicked expression.

“It’s the taste of a lie.”

“My lord Kuarne, no…!”

That scream was her last word. Kuarne twisted his beautiful face. A small sphere formed in the center of the high elf’s chest.

“Do you know why you’re going to die here? Because, to save your own skin, you dared compare me to Him. And also.”

He looked at her with deadly coldness as her body began to unravel.

“You showed no proper reverence. Since when is the Almighty your friend? Insolent wretch, know your place!”

Crack.

“Your sins deserve that I kill you millions of times, but I appreciate that you sincerely mourned Fermush’s death. So I’ll give you a quick death. That will be my act of mercy.”

Even as he spoke, the high elf’s body compressed in a spiral from the center of the sphere. Her skin shriveled like a wet rag, and her bones twisted grotesquely.

She tried to invoke a supreme spell to resist, but the dark sphere devoured even her magic.

Moments later, all that remained was a perfectly round crater. That was the only trace of her existence.

“The return of the Great Lord is near.”

Kuarne rose to his feet, one knee pressing the ground.

“The Academy break is soon, right? Make sure my nephew comes to the Demon Territory.”

“We’ll dispatch someone immediately.”

The subordinate behind the throne, a demoness with her hands crossed behind her back, nodded. She was Kuarne’s current chief assistant and second in rank within Gehenna.

“It’s been a while since I saw him.”

Kuarne lifted his head with a faint smile.

“My dear nephew, Leon van Reinhardt.”

High above in the sky, the black sun began to tilt. The gloomy shadows cast by that dark light swayed as if they were alive.

***

Sip.

The headmistress of the Academy, Media, took a sip of black tea and looked up. In front of her, a woman who was the spitting image of herself stared back. For a moment, it was like looking into a mirror.

‘…But unlike me, her face is well cared for. Just look at that glow on her skin.’

Media let out a deep sigh. Her twin sister, Meain, was lounging on the sofa with a completely carefree attitude.

“Don’t you know sighing accelerates aging? Even if you’re an ancient, you should take care of your skin. Your face’s already gone downhill since becoming headmistress.”

Media was speechless. Hearing that from someone who embodied the word “laziness” was just plain irritating.

“I don’t think you’re the one to be saying that… or are you, ex–head–mis–tress? What, want the job back, huh?!”

Meain waved her hand.

“Pass, pass.”

Media mentally wrote the character for “patience” three times. She fought the urge to plant a fist into that mocking smile.

“I prefer getting paid rather than doing the paying. And honestly, being headmistress isn’t worth the workload.”

“……”

It was hard to stay calm. The teacup in her hand trembled slightly. Inside her, a storm brewed in silence.

“The pay between an instructor and the headmistress isn’t that different, you know? After taxes, I might even earn more. The work environment’s great, super comfy. If I want a break, I send the kids off to self-study. Being an instructor is basically a paycheck heist! Of course, compared to the headmistress…”

Meain adjusted her glasses and raised the left corner of her mouth.

“Call me Meain, the paycheck thief.”

A perfect parody of a serial killer disguised as a detective. Since they were kids, Meain had been not just a master—but an artist—at annoying her younger sister.

“And why didn’t this great paycheck thief join the operation to hunt down Fermush, huh?”

Media forced a tight smile from her jaw and used her sweetest voice. Though inside, her heart pounded furiously.

“Of course I wanted to go. But Kang Geom-Ma personally asked me to supervise the Heavenly Class while he handled the Fourth Corps Commander.”

“How’s Heavenly Sword doing with the job he took on? Because if he’s not up to it, we can replace him with someone more competent. There are plenty of candidates, you know.”

Meain motioned with her eyes toward the table in front of them.

“The report’s there. Read it yourself, yo-yo-yo.”

Media immediately opened the report. Her double-lidded eyes scanned it like they were about to devour it.

“Please, let there be something, just one thing.”

Her mint green eyes moved up and down, left to right. After decades as headmistress, she had perfected the art of speed-reading.

“Grades personal records individual personality profiles…”

The report was immaculately organized by section. Perfect. Which made it all the more annoying. If at least something were lacking, she could scold her… damn it.

Then Media furrowed her brow slightly. She glanced away from the paper and flipped the report.

Media asked.

“Leon van Reinhardt. Isn’t his growth rate a bit too fast?”

Meain, head tilted back, slowly lowered it as if she’d been waiting for that question, and nodded solemnly.

“Yes. Even accounting for the fact that he’s a Hero, he’s progressing way too fast.”

“Compared to Heavenly Sword?”

“Heavenly Sword defeated three Corps Commanders alone. Obviously Leon’s nowhere near his level yet. But…”

Meain leaned forward. She knocked on the back of the report as if knocking on a door.

“In terms of potential, he’s not behind. It’s innate—his ‘capacity as a vessel.’”

“Heavenly Sword told me something once. That Leon is a nephilim. Did you already know?”

“I suspected. But nephilim only appear in legends. Then again, we ancients are part of those too, in a sense.”

As the Poison sisters talked, the air in the headmistress’s office grew colder. Even the tea lost its aroma as it cooled.

Media drank from her cold cup to moisten her dry throat.

Then reheated it and spoke.

“Alright, accepting that Leon’s from the Demon Territory is one thing. But who are his real parents? He doesn’t seem like someone who just happened to grow up there. You must have an idea.”

“I don’t know who the mother is, but I’ve got a pretty clear suspicion about the father.”

Meain also refilled her cup. With her lips at the rim, she said.

“Remember the fallen angels from mythological times?”

“Yeah. Dad used to tell us stories about them when we were little.”

The Poison family descended from the ancients massacred by angels. They were the humans most deeply tied to mythology. So they knew the forbidden stories well.

“Angels were heaven’s representatives. Among them, the most radiant formed a group—the Grigori. That name ring a bell?”

Media nodded.

“Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

“The Grigori’s purpose was to strictly enforce the celestial gospel. In other words, heaven’s lapdogs. But powerful ones. One day, they betrayed heaven. The leader of that betrayal was Azazel, whose current name is Kuarne, the one who now rules the Demon Territory.”

“Heavenly Sword mentioned that once. Said he heard it while visiting the nephilim temple.”

“I don’t know why Kuarne acts as a priest there, but he wasn’t alone. Samael, Lucifel, Sandalphon… and others. Several of the most powerful angels led that rebellion. In short, it was a coup d’état against the gods. The motive? No one really knows. And going into detail is pointless. After all, we’re talking about mythology.”

Meain moistened her lips with tea and set the cup on the table with a soft clink. Calmly, she continued.

“The rebellion of the Grigori ended in failure. And not just a partial one—a total failure.”

“You said you didn’t know their motive. Then how do you know the result?”

“I just told you. Kuarne was Azazel. If the rebellion had succeeded, do you think he’d be holed up in the Demon Territory now? And that’s not all. The reason he’s in that state is because, except for him, the Grigori were nearly wiped out. All by a single angel sent by the gods.”

“One angel took them all on? Is that even possible?”

Meain let out a chuckle.

“Why not? Even the gods, who brushed against infinity, were nearly wiped out by a single being. The Grigori followed the same path. Kuarne, the strongest among them, was the only one able to fight on even terms, but that doesn’t change the fact that he lost.”

“Then… who was that angel? And what does that have to do with Leon’s origin?”

“Ugh, don’t rush me. You’ve always been so impatient when you’re curious.”

“Fine…”

Media lowered her voice, a bit sheepish. Meain found that look endearing and resumed the explanation.

“The name of God’s apostle, the supreme angel of all, Kuarne’s brother, bearer of 36 wings… is Metatron (מטטרון).”

Meain paused briefly before continuing.

“Leon is a descendant of Metatron.”

***

Ryozo and Abel spoke to me at the same time.

“Choose me or her.”

“Choose me or her.”

Same phrase, eyes narrowed with fury, lips pursed. To top it off, their cheeks pressed together while they shot me that perfectly synchronized sharp glare. Not even rehearsed choreography could match that.

Anyway.

I just got out of the hospital and I’m already in this mess.

The chaos started a day ago.