How dare you show your face in front of me?"
The tip of the black iron-colored longsword was buried deep in the scorched wasteland, like someone's tombstone.
The "Angel of War's" red hair and banner fluttered in the wind, just as He symbolized, just as the war beneath His feet had not yet ceased, and the burning plateau was about to transform into the cruelest meat grinder, indiscriminately crushing the visions and happiness of all the defeated.
"I don't think there's anything I'm afraid of about someone who has already died once."
The Son of God shook his head helplessly. The crystal monocle on the side of his nose shimmered with a faint light, which became more and more dazzling as he walked forward.
"Don't tell me you know how to repent now."
Medici raised his longsword, and a sudden burst of flames burned away the sticky, damp soil and embers, the tip of the sword pointing directly at the newcomer's brow.
Faced with the looming threat of death, Amon merely smiled and continued forward until the blazing sword tip touched his right eye at the slightest distance, until he reached out and grasped the fiery blade that had been extinguished a second earlier.
"Why should I repent?" Amon smiled strangely. "No one is more loyal to the Father than I am, not even you, Medici."
"I have never betrayed the all-knowing and all-powerful Creator. I have always prayed to the one and only Sun God, whether the Kingdom of Heaven is broken or the Sun falls."
Medici carefully observed Amon's unwavering eyes, hoping to find a trace of deceit within them, even though He knew better than anyone that, as Amon had said, perhaps even He Himself, or even the great serpent, would not be more faithful to the Lord than Amon.
He certainly knew why Ammon chose to leave when the Kingdom of Heaven collapsed and the Creator fell.
Well, it's time to let it go. Now that this kid has figured it out and understood—although there's a high chance he heard the message of "mystery" returning—at least he's willing to return to the Lord's embrace, isn't he?
Having another powerful angel king who is only one ritual away from becoming a true god is always a good thing, and the subsequent plans will be easier to implement... The memories of the past convinced Medici to stop pursuing the petty squabbles and quarrels of thousands of years ago.
However...
"Don't get me wrong, not everyone is like you. You usually look like a hunting dog, but you're actually a lapdog. You'll lick anything that smells good."
The crimson flames instantly evaporated the "Angel of Time's" left hand, and the arrogant tongues of fire raged wildly. Even though Amon jumped away immediately, several holes were burned in his black robe.
Amon had never seen Medici so enraged.
His handsome, cold face was almost completely filled with anger, and the "Red Angel's" iron eyes were burned red by the sudden surge of emotion, on the verge of bursting.
"Get out of my sight."
Medici spoke each word slowly and deliberately, gritting his teeth and trying to maintain his composure so that he wouldn't be swayed by his anger. It was only because of their past relationship that he didn't immediately slash the head of Amon, whom he had watched grow up.
But Amon seemed unconcerned about the blatant hostility. His smile turned cold, and he flipped his intact right hand to reveal a tattered quill pen with a cracked outer shell, and spoke to himself.
"I recently met with Adam and also saw 'mystery'."
"Guess what I found?"
Medici ignored any of Amon's explanations or attempts to seduce him. He thrust his longsword forward a little further, and this time the scalding sharpness pierced Amon's shoulder.
Did your father ever talk to you about the special characteristics of a 'dreamer'?
"Did you never have any doubts about the relationship between Angelweid and Alszukhod?"
"You wouldn't have thought of this, but never asked your father to confirm it, would you?"
The Son of God ignored the burning pain in his shoulder, and although his words inevitably carried a sarcastic tone due to habit, the deeper concern he showed could not be ignored.
The truth is far more hurtful than slander. Medici's expression grew increasingly cold. He thrust the knife forward, attempting to provoke Amon with his decisiveness and hostility, and to prevent the truth from reaching his ears.
How could He not have had doubts?
He himself was the King of Angels in the past, and was qualified to covet the divine throne and strive for further advancement.
He certainly knew that becoming a god required three sequence characteristics and uniqueness.
Angelweid was a genuine "visionary," and from the perspective of extraordinary underlying logic, it was impossible for any "visionary" path to be sequenced before He became the Old One, as that would shake His status.
But the reality is that His offspring—the Nightmare Dragon Alshogod—is a "writer," a sequence one of the "Dreamer" pathway.
There must be some reason for this, such as the special nature of the "dreamer" that Amon mentioned.
Just one more step, one more step of thought, and Medici will be able to see through the secret and crack that special...
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Amon could feel Medici's hand trembling as he gripped the longsword, the scorching blade quivering in the wound on his shoulder, causing him even more pain.
Before Amon could say anything more, another sound came.
"You don't need to say anything more."
Medici voluntarily gave up the search for an answer.
The "Red Angel" would rather continue to fight recklessly and haphazardly as an unconscious weapon than let useless, long-past events disturb its loyalty.
In the initial war of unification, He was different from the other angel kings and from the warriors who initially followed the Creator in the war.
He was not born into the ranks of enslaved humans, nor did he join out of ambition. As a born mythical being, He could have retreated to the remote wilderness, becoming a free and unfettered overlord, cultivating his own faith... But He was conquered by that seemingly ordinary, weary middle-aged man!
Yes, a "conqueror" was conquered by a "mortal".
It wasn't because of force or any promise of benefit; it was simply that a bewildered non-human being witnessed an impossible dream and couldn't help but follow it.
At first, He merely sought to enjoy the pleasures of war and the thrill of slaughter in a "legitimate and justifiable" manner. However, after each battle, His madness was inevitably influenced by the countless warriors on the battlefield, and He became burdened by "honor" and "ideals."
Those former slaves, who should be called rebels in later generations, used their fragile spirits and wills to painstakingly carve out a piece of rationality from the chaos, a rough gem called "Medici".
The Creator brought the flames of war for unification to the earth, allowing Medici to see a kind of destruction other than absolute annihilation.
His birth was special; he was born from the embers of the "King of the Alien Species," having had enough of loneliness.
In the early days of His life, He pondered more than once amidst the carnage whether He would return to the solitude He loathed once more after the destruction He symbolized had spread death equally to all.
Then what is the meaning of the destruction He carried out?
Fortunately, the Creator gave Him the answer—to abandon the frenzied desires imposed upon Him by the will of the extraordinary source, to simply be a war commander who brings Him enjoyment, to join a reasonably great cause, and to slowly find His own meaning.
His loyalty, the loyalty of the "Red Angel" Medici, is different from the loyalty believed by all other creatures who still follow the Creator.
He did not act for "human righteousness," nor for "justice and justice," nor for "a better future." Even the heavenly kingdom that everyone yearns for is, in His view, an incomprehensible stagnation and backwardness.
The authority He holds symbolizes destruction and change that is heading towards the end, so what He finds most intolerable is a heaven as calm as still water.
The reason He hated the traitors, the former colleagues of the Kingdom of Heaven and the enemies from beyond the heavens, was not because He was as cowardly and boring as others.
He merely lamented the unfulfilled, dreamlike vision of the Creator.
He only hated that their ideals were burned to ashes by thieves just when they were about to succeed, they were only one step away.
Amun was tempting Him to see the truth about His death. With His wisdom after so many years, and with the hints Amun had given Him repeatedly, He could certainly guess it.
But He still chose to remain silent, to pretend to be a fool, a coward whom He usually despised, in order to escape the truth.
What He hates most is betrayal, yet today He has forgiven betrayal against Him.
Behind the veil of shadows, His Lord suffers daily torment from depravity, struggles between life and death, and endures the pain of great rebellion.
As for Adam, He doesn't care about Adam's nature; he can be anything, but he is definitely not the one for whom He needs to be loyal.
"Let's go, I'll pretend I never saw you."
Medici sheathed his longsword, turned his body with a calm expression, and didn't even glance at the "Aleshurst Pen" in Amon's hand, which was crucial to the true creator, nor did he look at Amon.
Seeing that Medici really had no intention of continuing the conversation, Amon, holding the quill pen, fell silent. He hesitated several times, then finally mumbled a dry hum.
Even if I'm here to cooperate?
Medici suddenly stopped and turned halfway around to look at the somewhat disheveled Amon.
His eyes were occasionally obscured by his flowing red hair, and his gloomy face seemed to be deep in thought.
A moment later, He resolutely turned His head and stepped into the flames.
"Come with me."
...
"To be honest, I always thought that those cheesy reunion scenes in romance novels would never happen to me."
Jerry Zarathustra, with a barely noticeable bruise on the back of his head, fiddled with the crucible, listlessly extinguished the fire in the stove, and then skillfully divided the milk into three portions.
The kitchen in the temporary residence wasn't very big. Mr. A, who was packing the cut noodles onto a plate, clearly heard his partner's soft humming. After thinking for a moment, he reminded him.
"If you don't want to be lectured again, you'd better shut up."
As he spoke, he took out some rare tea from the Moorfala region from the cupboard. Drinking black tea instead of milk for breakfast was a habit he had maintained for over a decade, and no matter how hard Mr. A tried, he couldn't correct it.
"You call that education?"
Jerry Zarathustra grinned, his displeasure practically oozing from his nostrils.
"Look at their faces! I knew the patriarch wouldn't send the young lady out to suffer for no reason. He definitely had this idea in mind from the beginning!"
Ignoring Mr. A's suddenly darkened expression, the oblivious "Master of Puppetry" continued.
"I just said a few extra words, and he used illusion magic to scare me—and it was demigod-level illusion magic!"
"No way, it's only been a short time, and he's already become a demigod!"
"A, can you imagine?"
"You and I have struggled together for several years. I dare say that Klein's record is unparalleled, not only in the Empire, but also in the entire history. I have never heard of anyone who has advanced so quickly and still has the mental stability to talk about love!"
Mr. A, who had secretly cast a shadow to seal off the kitchen and ensured that not a single sound of their conversation could be heard, first glanced at the kitchen doorway with unease, then looked around at several corners. Only after confirming that there were no "trickster" puppets crouching there did he speak.
Surprisingly, he didn't get angry after listening to Jerry Zarathustra's nonsensical remarks.
"I can't imagine it. After all, this is the Lord's blessing. Only the Lord can explain the miracle that happened to V."
"However, regarding the part about 'romance' that you mentioned..."
A hint of doubt and self-doubt appeared on Mr. A's delicate face.
"I don't know if it's because I haven't been exposed to current popular culture for too long that I've misunderstood the definition of this word."
"To be honest, I don't see anything between Sharon and V."
"Actually, according to V himself, he was also very happy to see that you were not missing any limbs."
"No, he's definitely not happy, I'm sure of it."
After venting his frustrations, Jerry Zarathustra breathed a sigh of relief, but also felt helpless.
He shouldn't have said that to A. Expecting a fanatical believer who was raised by the Vatican from childhood and whose life goal is "to dedicate oneself to the Lord" to understand avant-garde topics of love is asking too much.
"Okay, I still have work to do."
To picked up the tray with three glasses of milk, and Jerry Zarathustra and Mr. A walked out of the kitchen one after the other.
In the living room, Klein, who had changed out of his trench coat, was sitting on a rather shaky wooden chair, maintaining his balance with superb self-control, passing the time by reading the only newspaper published in the Morfara region, the Imperial Truth.
Since the Tronsost army crossed the border, the Intis garrison in Morfala fled overnight, the city changed hands, and the previously popular Intis newspapers were banned by the Imperial army and replaced by the Imperial Truth newspaper published by the city of Arens.
The reports mostly covered the current war situation, real-time news from the Second Empire of Trensust, and the doctrines of the True Creator.
Overall, in terms of entertainment value, it is far inferior to the newspapers and various publications brought from Trier, but it is barely adequate for passing the time.
Out of the corner of his eye, Klein noticed Jerry Zarathustra placing breakfast on the table. Though not particularly hungry, Klein, eager to satisfy his cravings, quickened his reading pace.
He turned to page two, intending to fold the newspaper and prepare to enjoy breakfast, when suddenly an inconspicuous corner caught his attention.
...
"Heretical Beliefs from Enemy Nations: The Church of Mother Earth, Priestess Roland, Intends to Engage in Dialogue with the High Council on the Humanitarian Issues of the Highland War"
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