POV: Haruki
He regarded the man who had once made gods tremble with a dispassionate gaze. Now that same man writhed before him; screaming, sobbing, begging, over and over, for it all to end.
Haruki had seen through him from the very beginning. Through the grand declarations, through the righteous posturing, through the sanctimonious claim that everything had been done for the sake of humanity. Beneath it all, Cao Cao was laid bare.
He clothed himself in the mantle of humanity's voice, fashioned himself into its will incarnate - its chosen herald and ultimate defender. In his mind, he was the one destined to drag every enemy of mankind to heel, to carve out an era where humanity stood unchallenged at the pinnacle of existence.
And to do so, he had discarded himself. He had allowed that role to eclipse everything that once made him an individual.
His name, his pride, his identity…everything was shed and reforged into something larger, something impersonal. He turned the collective will of humanity into his armor, wore it so completely that the line between the two ceased to exist.
In that delusion, his will became humanity's will, his pride its pride. It gave meaning to his suffering, wrapped his pain in the illusion of purpose, convinced him that there was a grand design, that fate itself would one day justify all that he had endured.
But at his core, Cao Cao was nothing more than a wounded beast.
A creature that had been broken, thrashing blindly in search of something..anything…to make the pain stop.
And Haruki could see all of it. With his newfound, near-omniscience, the threads of Cao Cao's past unraveled effortlessly before him. He could every moment, every scar, every turning point that had shaped the man into what he was now.
A boy, born in a remote mountain village in China. A quiet life, bound to the soil, to a lineage that traced its roots back to the warlord of the late Eastern Han Dynasty. It should have been insignificant. By all means they should have lived an ordinary Peaceful life.
Alas fate had other plans.
An evil dragon descended upon the village, reducing it to ruin and ash. His family - his parents, his siblings, men, women, children, everyone he had ever known - were slaughtered in a storm of fire and blood. The home that had once been his entire world was erased in a single night.
Cao Cao should have died with them.
Instead, he was spared…saved by the timely arrival of Sun Wukong, and by the fateful awakening of his Longinus in the face of absolute despair.
And from that moment on, his path was decided.
From the ashes of that village rose a boy who swore vengeance upon the world that had taken everything from him. At first, his path had been simple and clear. He hunted monsters, the aberrations that justified his hatred, eradicated those who preyed upon the weak, became a blade wielded in the name of justice.
But righteousness, once embraced without restraint, is a fragile thing.
Somewhere along the way, the line blurred.
What started as justice slowly curdled into paranoia. Suspicion replaced discernment. Suspicion became preemption. And preemption became slaughter.
It was no longer about what they had done, it was about what they might do. Neutral spirits, indifferent beings, those who had committed no sin beyond existing… all of them fell beneath his spear. Anything that might become a threat. The future itself became justification enough.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Haruki could still remember those words, spoken to him long ago by a unicorn—words that now echoed with a bitter clarity.
And you, Haruki, do not lose yourself. Drink, if you must. Kill, if you must. But do not gaze too long into their abyss. For it gazes back. And if it finds you hollow, it will keep you here forever.
Cao Cao had gazed too long.
And in the end, he had become the very thing his younger self would have despised.
We're not so different, him and I, Haruki thought, a quiet heaviness settling in his chest.
Haruki exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
Both of them had walked the same path, cloaked in different justifications. Both had committed atrocities in the name of something they deemed righteous.
Haruki had slaughtered innocents in pursuit of his goal. He had manipulated…deceived allies and enemies alike, orchestrated suffering on a scale that could not be undone. Drowned the underworld in carnage to ascend further, to grasp at the power he so desperately sought.
He had killed those who trusted him. Those who loved him.
The guilty. The virtuous. And those who had nothing to do with him at all, mere bystanders swept up in the wake of his ambition.
All for the sake of reaching an end he alone deemed necessary.
And yet…
He understood something Cao Cao never had. Or so he likes to believe.
Good intentions did not cleanse evil deeds.
Haruki understood firmly that none of it was justified.
Not his intentions. Not his goal. Not even the good that might one day come from it.
His actions remained evil.
There was no reconciliation to be found between what he had done and what might yet be achieved. No future outcome could erase the past he had written in blood.
No end goal could ever justify the tears of innocent children.
There was no absolution waiting for him. No redemption to be earned. No salvation to be granted, not in this world, nor in any other.
And he had accepted that.
He would carry the weight of it, the stain of his sins, for the rest of his existence.
No one would absolve him.
And he would never ask them to.
He looked down at the Spear of Destiny resting in his hand, his expression caught between contemplation and something far less certain. The sacred lance that had pierced the side of Christ as he hung upon the cross carried a weight far beyond its form, and Haruki could feel it reaching for him, a distant summons that resonated from somewhere beyond the boundaries of the world.
Moved by curiosity, and perhaps by a faint hope that some unspoken question within him might finally find its answer, he allowed himself to yield to that call, relinquishing resistance as his consciousness was drawn elsewhere.
What greeted him was oblivion, or at least what would seem like oblivion to any ordinary being. There was no matter, no energy, no sense of presence or absence, only an endless expanse of white that resembled an untouched canvas awaiting its first stroke.
Haruki remained unperturbed, and as he took a step forward,reality itself bent to accommodate his will. A floor unfolded beneath his feet, followed by the suggestion of space, then structure, as a staircase emerged and extended upward, each step solidifying only as he moved. With every measured stride, the void receded and gave way to creation.
Walls rose, a ceiling settled into place, light diffused softly through the air, and the faint presence of sound followed soon after. What had been nothing mere moments ago now arranged itself something tangible until a house stood fully realized around him.
Not just any house.
Haruki recognized it instantly, every detail etched into his memory with accuracy that left no room for doubt. The layout, the texture of the walls, the placement of every object, all of it was exactly as he remembered.
From the kitchen came the familiar clatter of utensils accompanied by the soft melody of a Japanese nursery rhyme, while the scent of a warm meal drifted through the air and the distant murmur of a television echoed from the living room.
I am within the Dreaming, He noted it with a faint trace of amusement, though his expression remained largely composed.
The realm of dreams existed as something separate from both the material and spiritual realms, yet calling it a realm was not entirely accurate. It was a place that both existed and did not exist simultaneously, a paradox sustained by the collective unconscious of all living beings.
It was the domain where dreams and nightmares were born, where imagination and belief intertwined to create wonders of impossible beauty and horrors beyond reason. It was a metaphysical plane shaped by symbols, sustained by thought, and constantly shifting in response to the minds that unknowingly fed it.
It was a matter of ongoing debate among the gods whether the Dragon of Dreams, the Great Red, was merely the ruler of this domain or whether he was the domain itself, a question that had never found a definitive answer.
Haruki himself was, in a manner of speaking, newly born, having come into existence as a god only three days prior, yet like Argus, the giant with a hundred eyes, he possessed the ability to see all that could be seen. His omniscience extended even to that which was invisible or deliberately concealed, and yet the nature of the Dragon of Dreams remained elusive, a mystery that resisted even his perception.
He stepped into the kitchen, and the sight that greeted him caused his breath to falter, if only for a moment. There she stood, his mother, with the same raven hair he had inherited, dressed in a simple apron tied neatly around her waist as she prepared breakfast with the same familiar ease.
"Hello, my love. Will you pass me the salt?" she asked, her voice warm and filled with the same quiet affection he remembered.
Haruki blinked once, then shook his head lightly as though clearing away the remnants of an illusion, his composure returning almost immediately.
It was unsettling.
Everything about her was perfect, from her appearance to her voice, from the subtle cadence of her speech to the warmth that seemed to emanate from her very presence, a warmth that carried the unmistakable sense of safety only a mother could provide and unconditional love that seemed to radiate from her mere presence.
And yet, he knew with absolute certainty that she was not his mother.
"It's disturbing," Haruki said, his tone calm and measured.
"What do you mean?" the woman asked, her expression shifting with gentle concern.
"I would prefer it if you did not wear my mother's face while speaking to me," he replied, his voice steady and firm.
"I'm formless," the woman answered without hesitation. "I must assume shapes that your mind can recognize so that I may be understood, and your mother serves as a fitting metaphor given what I am."
Her form shifted seamlessly, her features dissolving and reforming into another figure.
This time, it was his father, bearing the same playful expression and ever present laughter in his eyes that Haruki remembered so vividly.
"Would this form be more acceptable?" the figure asked. "I'm not bound by the concept of gender, yet I may appear as either."
"No," Haruki said, the refusal immediate despite the conflict stirring within him at the sight of his father
The transformation came again. Now she stood before him as a crimson haired girl clad in the familiar uniform of Kuoh Academy, her smile carrying a knowing quality that needed no explanation.
"Perhaps this form would be preferable, the one your heart longs for?" she said softly.
"I would rather you take the form of someone I don't know," Haruki replied, his tone unchanged as he dismissed the suggestion.
The being obliged. Its form shifted once more, settling into that of an unremarkable man with olive-toned skin, long hair that fell past his shoulders, and a full beard framing his face. His appearance was ordinary, yet his eyes held something that could not be ignored.
They were filled with a boundless warmth, a quiet and overwhelming sense of love and contentment that stirred something deep within Haruki, something he could not easily dismiss.
For a fleeting moment, he felt a sense of peace. A sense of being seen.
"We meet again, Haruki Yamashiro," the man said with a gentle smile.
"Again?" Haruki raised a brow, his gaze sharpening with quiet scrutiny.
"I suppose our last encounter could hardly be called a meeting in any ordinary sense," the man replied, his tone gentle, as though speaking of something long past and faintly regrettable. "To you, I was nothing more than a corpse, an empty husk devoid of presence or voice. You lacked the strength to perceive me as I was, and when I reached out to you, when I called to you across that fragile boundary, your consciousness collapsed under the strain before you could even understand what was happening."
The memory returned to him at once. That vast, incomprehensible corpse he had glimpsed when he first encountered Cao Cao and was exposed to the full majesty of the True Longinus returned to him with unsettling clarity.
At the time, there had been no voice, no discernible will calling out to him, only an overwhelming presence that had shattered the limits of his perception and driven his mind to the brink of collapse. His mortal consciousness had simply been incapable of enduring the weight of it, let alone interpreting it.
"Why are we in the Dreaming?" Haruki asked instead, setting aside the memory with ease, his voice steady as his gaze remained fixed on the being before him.
He found it difficult to believe that great red would tolerate such an intrusion within his domain without consequence.
"Because this is the only place where I can manifest with sufficient substance to interact with you in a meaningful capacity," the man answered calmly, as though the explanation required no further elaboration. "Even here, my presence is fleeting and incomplete, a fragment that cannot endure for long. As for the dragon you are concerned about, there is no need for unease. I have reached an understanding with him, one that allows me this brief indulgence without conflict."
Haruki had often wondered what such a moment would be like. The thought of standing before God, of confronting the architect of existence itself, had once been something that stirred a storm of emotion within him.
His younger self would have seized this opportunity without hesitation, driven by a desperate need to demand answers, to give voice to every grievance and every accusation that had taken root in his heart. There had been so much he wished to ask, so much he wished to condemn, so much suffering he would have laid at the feet of the one who had shaped the world.
That version of him no longer existed.
Time, experience, and bloodshed had eroded that naïve desire, leaving behind something far colder and far more restrained, something that no longer sought solace in answers that would change nothing.
It hardly matters in any case, Haruki concluded inwardly.
The being before him was only a remnant, a fading echo of what had once been an existence that stood at the pinnacle of all creation. This was merely a fragment of will preserved within the True Longinus, a dying echo that had found temporary form within the shifting fabric of the Dreaming.
Whatever answers it could offer would be incomplete, filtered through the limitations of what remained.
"Is that truly what you believe?" the man asked, a quiet sadness threading through his voice. "That your thoughts, your feelings, carry no weight in the greater design of things?"
"Why did you call for me?" Haruki asked, ignoring the question entirely.
"I didn't bring you here," the man replied. "What you heard was an invitation, nothing more. The choice to answer it was entirely your own."
"I see," Haruki said softly, acknowledging the distinction without dwelling on it. "Then what was it that you wished to say?"
The world shifted without warning.
The house dissolved as though it had never existed, its structure unraveling into formless white before reforming into something entirely different. Haruki found himself seated within an empty café, its atmosphere quiet and undisturbed, as though time itself had chosen to pause within its walls.
Soft light filtered through unseen windows, casting a gentle glow across polished wooden tables and neatly arranged chairs, while the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air.
Across from him sat the man, composed and serene, with two cups of cappuccino resting between them. Steam curled upward in delicate spirals, carrying a warmth that felt almost out of place within a realm born of abstraction.
"To speak of the end," the man said, lifting the cup with steady hands before taking a measured sip, his expression unchanged. "The end of the world. The apocalypse that awaits all things."
That was enough to command Haruki's full attention.
"The apocalypse?" he repeated, his gaze sharpening. "Are you referring to the seal placed upon the great beast? Is it weakening?"
"Trihexa remains sealed," the man replied evenly. "The seal has been tampered with, repurposed by my wayward grandchild, though I believe you are already aware of that development. As long as Rizevim Livan Lucifer continues to exist, the beast will remain confined."
He paused briefly, allowing the words to settle.
"The apocalypse I speak of is something else entirely," he continued. "It's the true end of all reality as you understand it."
"So that is what Cain meant," Haruki murmured, his thoughts turning inward as fragments of past conversations aligned into a clearer picture. "Is this the reason behind your permanent death?"
"Yes," the man answered without hesitation. "In the earliest days of the great war, I became aware of a hostile presence drifting just beyond the boundaries of creation. These were entities of immense and incomprehensible power, devoid of reason, driven by a singular instinct to consume entire universes and leave them hollow in their wake, much like a swarm of locusts devours a field until nothing remains.
"Recognizing the threat they posed, I acted before they could reach our reality, and with the assistance of the Dragon of Dreams, I sacrificed a significant portion of my power to construct a barrier that encircled all of creation and denies them entry."
Haruki listened in silence, a rare sense of awe settling within him as he considered the scale of what had just been described. The act of enclosing all of creation within a protective boundary was not something that could be easily comprehended, even by a mind such as his.
He had heard it said many times that the God of the Covenant stood above all others, that he was the mightiest among gods, described as "omnipotent" and "omniscient", though not in the truest sense of the words.
God did not have limitless power here. No one did.
What set him apart from every other pantheon was the absence of division. Yahweh occupied a unique position among divine beings, as he existed alone within his pantheon, holding authority over domains that, in other systems, were divided among multiple deities.
In the Greek pantheon, for example, Zeus governed the sky while Apollo presided over the sun and Hades ruled the underworld. Similarly, within the Japanese pantheon, Amaterasu embodied the sun while Susanoo held dominion over storms and the sea. Such divisions were commonplace across mythologies, where authority was distributed among many.
Yahweh, however, stood alone.
There were no equals within his pantheon, no counterparts to divide responsibility or authority. Every domain, whether it concerned the heavens, the earth, life, death, creation, destruction, time, or fate, fell under his singular jurisdiction. He was at once the god of the sky and the sun, of harvest and ruin, of birth and annihilation, of law and chaos, embodying all aspects without distinction or limitation imposed by hierarchy.
It was this singular sovereignty that gave rise to the description of omnipotence, though he was not literally omnipotent.
"And I assume this barrier can't hold indefinitely," Haruki said, his tone measured.
"I'm afraid that it cannot," the man replied. "It was never meant to be permanent. The entities beyond are too powerful to be denied forever. In time, the barrier will fracture, and when it does, they will enter this world and reduce it to ruin. That moment is approaching far more quickly than it should."
"Is there any possibility of defeating them in open conflict?" Haruki asked.
"They can be defeated," the man said. "They are not beyond destruction. However, a war against them on that scale would annihilate everything you seek to protect. Even in victory, if victory there be, there would be nothing left to preserve."
"How powerful are they?" Haruki pressed. "Do we stand any chance at all?"
"The foremost among them are known as the Great Old Ones," the man answered, his voice steady as he spoke of beings that seemed to exist beyond comprehension. "They are the direct progeny of the entity you might call the Nuclear Sultan, and there are thirteen of them in total. Each one commands countless lesser entities that serve as extensions of their will, and some among those lesser beings have already found their way into this world through cracks in the barrier."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"Each of the thirteen stands equal in power to the Dragon of Dreams and the Dragon of Infinity."
Well that's comforting, Haruki thought. Thirteen entities, each comparable in power to Great Red, represented a force so overwhelming that even conceptualizing opposition felt futile.
He understood instinctively that no unified effort within creation could withstand such power in direct confrontation. Even beings such as Great Red or Ophis would be outmatched against such numbers, and the rest of existence would fare far worse.
So they must be stopped before they could enter the world, he concluded, which was easier said than done.
"Were you the one responsible for bringing me into this world?" Haruki asked suddenly, his gaze returning to the man before him as a question that had lingered since his rebirth finally found its way to the surface.
"Yes," the man answered calmly. "You are one of several contingencies I set into motion."
Haruki's eyes narrowed slightly, a faint tension settling into his expression.
The word did not sit well with him.
To be described as a contingency suggested design, intention imposed from beyond his own will, a role assigned before he had ever drawn breath in this life. It carried the implication that his existence had been shaped to serve a purpose that was never truly his own, that his path had been laid out in advance by a hand he had never seen.
He found the notion deeply sickening.
Haruki had never tolerated the idea of being controlled, of having his choices reduced to mere steps within a plan devised by another. The thought of his life unfolding according to a script written by someone else stirred a deep hatred within him, a rejection rooted in something fundamental to his being.
He had carved his path through will and action, through decisions made without regard for consequence, and the suggestion that all of it might have been anticipated, guided, or even orchestrated from the beginning clashed sharply with everything he believed himself to be.
He would not accept the role of a puppet.
He would not allow his existence to be defined by strings he could not see.
Whatever purpose had been placed upon him, whatever design had led to his presence in this world, he would confront it on his own terms.
"I see my choice of words offend you," God said softly. "It's uncanny how similar you are to my son, Helel. He, too, could not bear the thought that he was shaped by anything beyond himself. He believed that if even a single thread connected him to something greater, then he was diminished. I'd like to tell you a story, if you'd listen to me."
"It doesn't look as if my refusal would stop you from doing so anyway." Haruki sighed.
"There was once a man who despised cages so deeply that he resolved never to be contained by anything at all. Neither by walls nor by people nor by need, nor by expectation, not even by his own past. He sought a state of absolute independence, what he called true freedom.
"And so He abandoned his home, for a home could bind him. He refused companionship, for others might influence him. He rejected knowledge passed down by anyone else, for it was not his own. Even his name, given to him at birth, he cast aside.
"At first, he felt exhilarated. Each severed tie was a victory. Each absence, a declaration of sovereignty. And affirmation of his own identity."
God's voice remained even, almost gentle.
"But something peculiar began to happen. He found that to eat, he relied on the land. To walk, he relied on the ground. To think, he relied on language he had learned from others, even if he denied it. To exist, he relied on a world he did not create.
"The more he tried to eliminate these dependencies, the more his world shrank. Every connection he cut removed only a possibility which he could be influenced by."
Haruki's expression darkened, though he did not interrupt.
"In time," God continued, "he achieved something close to what he desired. He stood alone, untouched by others, owing nothing, shaped by nothing he acknowledged. And he discovered that what remained was only emptiness."
A quiet stillness followed.
"Freedom without relation is indistinguishable from isolation," God said. "And isolation, taken far enough, becomes its own kind of cage. The man mistook influence for imprisonment. He severed himself from everything that allowed him to rise. He did not see that some ties do not bind but enable us to soar high. They give form to our choice, not take it away."
"In context, I find that pretty offensive." Haruki said, his voice tightening with a sharper edge than before. "Influence is the oldest excuse ever devised to justify suffering that should never have existed in the first place. You say that no one stands apart from what shapes them, that every action is tied to something prior, something inherited, something beyond their choosing, and that idea is precisely what has been used, over and over again, to absolve responsibility from those who had the power to prevent harm and chose not to."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "If everything is connected in the way you describe, then suffering becomes transferable, and guilt becomes something that can be passed down like a disease. I refuse to accept that logic!"
There was a quiet, simmering anger beneath his words now.
"Why should anyone suffer for a choice they never made, for a mistake they never had the chance to avoid, for a past they did not author and could not alter, and yet are forced to endure as though it were their own doing?
"Tell me why a child must starve because of the failures of those who came before them, why someone must be born into suffering because of decisions made generations ago, why humanity, as a whole, must carry the weight of a single act attributed to some distant ancestor?"
His expression hardened.
"It's a chain that stretches across history, binding the innocent to the consequences of the guilty, ensuring that no one ever truly begins free, and if that is the structure of the world, then it is a structure that produces suffering as naturally as it produces life."
He held God's gaze, unflinching.
"Your story does not comfort nor enlighten me in any way. All I hear in it is a justification for why things are allowed to remain broken. And I will not accept a world where suffering is explained away as the price of connection, when that price is paid by those who never agreed to it."
"You can not be your own maker, haruki. No one can," God said softly, his gaze resting upon Haruki with a quiet sorrow. " We are all shaped by the world that surrounds us, molded by forces both seen and unseen long before we are capable of understanding them. You have been unhappy, and will remain unhappy, because you desire things that can not be."
"That's what desire is," Haruki replied, his voice steady, though a trace of disdain lingered beneath it. "The need for what we can't have. And I find the idea that my life was always meant to end this way, that every step I have taken was nothing more than part of your design, fundamentally insulting."
"You misunderstand me, Haruki," God answered with a faint, almost apologetic smile. "I did not orchestrate your life in the way you assume. I merely took your soul, which had died prematurely in its original world, and placed it within the heavenly system so that it could recover and be reborn without being lost to oblivion. That was the extent of my intervention."
He paused briefly, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing.
"Beyond that moment, my influence ceased entirely. I did not choose the family you were born into, nor the circumstances that shaped your life. I did not guide your hand, nor did I dictate the choices that brought you to where you stand now. Every bond you formed, every decision you made, every action that defined you was yours alone. You walked this path by your own will, not because it was written for you."
"You expect me to believe that?" Haruki shot back, though even as the words left his mouth, they felt hollow, lacking the conviction he had intended.
There was something in the explanation that made his retort feel childish in comparison.
"Whether you accept it or not remains your choice," God said solemnly, his voice calm and unwavering. "Yet you already understand the truth of it, now that you stand where I once stood in strength, that no being can calculate existence in its entirety. To plan events with such precision across the span of a lifetime, to dictate every outcome and every decision, is impossible.
"The future is a vast and unstable expanse of divergence, where every moment gives rise to countless new possibilities, and each possibility fractures further into its own infinite variations. Every choice generates new choices, and every outcome reshapes the structure of what may come next. My ability to perceive the future allowed me to navigate these possibilities, to identify outcomes that aligned with my intentions and act in ways that increased their likelihood. Even so, there was never certainty. Even the most favorable path could collapse under the weight of unforeseen change."
Haruki remained silent for a moment, absorbing the explanation, and he found that he did not truly doubt the words he had just heard. Even without the heightened awareness he now possessed, he would have been inclined to believe them.
Deception, manipulation, and falsehood stood in direct opposition to the nature of the being before him, and there was no sense of distortion in what he was being told.
"In truth," God continued, his expression softening slightly, "I did not expect you to be the one who would reach this point. Of all the contingencies I set into motion, you were not the most likely outcome. I had anticipated that Hyoudou Issei might succeed, or perhaps one of the other souls I brought from beyond this world."
"There were others?" Haruki asked, his curiosity piqued despite himself. The mention of Issei did not surprise him, given the role he was meant to play in the structure of this world, though the deterministic implications of that fact had always been something he found deeply distasteful.
"Not anymore," God replied quietly. "Each of them met an end, some through their own excess, others through circumstances beyond their control. None were able to reach this point."
Haruki let the silence stretch.
He lifted the cup before him and took a measured sip of the cappuccino, noting that it remained warm despite the passage of time. He found no desire to continue arguing. No matter what explanation was given, there remained a part of him that refused to accept it fully.
There was also a deeper issue that lingered beneath the surface.
The being before him was not truly omnipotent. Nor was he the God of his past life.
Haruki's resentment had always been directed toward the concept of an absolute god, one who possessed infinite power and yet allowed suffering to persist. The entity seated across from him was not that. He was vast, immeasurably so, yet still finite, still bound by limits that defined the scope of his actions.
He had done what he could.
It simply had not been enough.
He felt a faint sense of embarrassment at his earlier tone, at the sharpness of his words directed toward someone who had, by all accounts, given everything he could in an attempt to preserve the world. His earlier anger now felt misdirected, almost immature in hindsight.
This was a being who had sacrificed himself once, and then again, for the sake of creation. To question whether such an existence possessed compassion felt almost trivial in light of that reality.
"What else can you tell me about the Outer Gods?" Haruki asked after a while, breaking the silence with a quieter tone.
"It's unwise to speak of them at length," God replied, his expression growing more serious. "Even the act of naming them, of giving shape to their existence through thought and language, creates a channel through which they may exert influence. Awareness itself can become a vulnerability, a point of contact through which their presence seeps into this reality."
"Cain said something similar," Haruki recalled. "He told me that I needed to reach at least Satan class before he could even speak of them."
"A prudent choice," God said with a faint nod of approval. "Knowledge of the Outer Deities carries a cost. Those who lack sufficient strength of will and power are unable to withstand the attention that follows. They are observed, tainted in ways they do not perceive, and gradually reshaped by an influence that erodes their sense of self."
His voice grew quieter, though no less firm.
"Even for those of us who stand at the highest levels, caution is necessary. Their nature is not something that can be understood safely through explanation alone. If you truly wish to know them, then you must go to the edge of the world, where the barrier thins, and look at them directly. Only then can you form a judgment that is your own, unfiltered by the limitations of words."
"Could Great Red be persuaded to defend this world?" Haruki asked, his thoughts already moving toward what needed to be done.
"He already does," God answered. "That is why he resides within the Dimensional Gap, maintaining his presence there since the beginning of this era. It is he who continuously reinforces the barrier, strengthening it against the pressure from beyond."
The answer caught Haruki off guard.
Everything he had learned about the Dragon of Dreams painted a very different picture, one of overwhelming arrogance and self interest, traits that were often attributed to dragons as a whole.
"Why would he do that?" Haruki asked, genuine curiosity surfacing in his voice.
"In part, it is a matter of survival," God explained calmly. "The entities beyond the barrier are hostile to all existence, and Great Red is no exception to that hostility. Preserving the world is, in this sense, an act of self preservation."
He allowed a faint smile to return.
"There is also another reason. This world, in its entirety, is part of what he considers his domain. His hoard, if you will. His pride would not permit another force to claim or destroy what he regards as his possession."
"That is… surprisingly reasonable," Haruki said, a trace of amusement entering his voice despite the gravity of the situation. "And what of Ophis?"
"She does not care," God replied. "If I were to offer guidance, it would be this: Find a way to bring her to your side. Her involvement could prove decisive, and you will require every advantage available if you intend to endure what is coming."
"You said earlier that some of the children of the Great Old Ones have already infiltrated our world?" Haruki asked, his tone steady as his gaze remained fixed upon the man across from him.
"Yes, there are those who managed to evade the notice of Great Red," God replied calmly. "They remain concealed, waiting for the moment when the stars align in their favor, when they can emerge openly and claim what they believe to be their rightful domain. In the meantime, they have been tempting both gods and mortals alike, offering promises of power, protection, and survival when the apocalypse arrives."
"Do they find any success in that?" Haruki asked, though he already suspected the answer to that.
He knew such beings would inevitably attract followers. There were always those who would reach for such promises.
Evil gods, ambitious spirits, and desperate beings who would trade anything for greater power were inevitable in any age, and especially now, as the ritual of Christ continued to erode and the age of magic drew closer to resurgence.
"Unfortunately," God replied, his expression growing slightly more somber, "many minor gods have already fallen under their influence. More troubling still is the fact that even among the greater gods, there are those who have begun to succumb. You have already encountered the consequences of such corruption in one who has left a trail of destruction across the world."
"Tezcatlipoca," Haruki said at once, recognition cutting through his thoughts.
The god responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands during his ascension, the catalyst behind the formation of the Hero Faction itself. Haruki also recalled that it had been Tezcatlipoca who constructed the vampire barrier, and in that sense, his influence had extended far beyond a single act of destruction.
It would not have been an exaggeration to say that his actions had indirectly shaped the trajectory of Haruki's own life in multiple ways.
"Yes," God confirmed. "I sensed it clearly when Cao Cao confronted him in the past. His presence was saturated with corruption and madness, and the ritual he performed was deeply tainted. I suspect he was instructed or guided by one of the Outer Deities. And I don't think he is the only one. You must be extremely careful in selecting your allies, Haruki, as you cannot assume that those who stand beside you are free from corruption."
"How am I supposed to distinguish the corrupted from the untainted?" Haruki asked, his voice carrying a measured frustration.
"You are a god, are you not?" God replied simply. "You must stop approaching existence as a human would and instead learn to perceive it through your divine nature. There has never been a deity who embodies both holiness and darkness in equal measure before you, and because of that, your potential is effectively limitless. You must learn to understand and master the full range of your abilities, as the times ahead will demand it of you."
Haruki remained silent for a brief moment, absorbing the words.
"Very well," he said at last. "Do you have any guidance on how I should train these abilities? So far, I've been doing everything instinctively, like the world itself is feeding me the necessary information in real time."
"That is the nature of omniscience," God replied. "Knowledge flows toward you because you are aligned with the world. You must allow that flow to continue rather than resisting it, though I am aware that relinquishing control in such a manner may be difficult for you."
A faint trace of amusement passed through his expression.
"The world is not separate from you. It is, in many ways, an extension of the same underlying order that gives rise to gods. Just as all deities are born from and connected to the world, so too are they sustained and informed by it. In your case, this connection is even more pronounced. You exist as something akin to a pantheon unto yourself, holding authority across multiple domains that would normally stand apart, and some of those domains stand in direct opposition to one another.
"You must train each of these aspects in harmony, learning how they interact, where they conflict, and how those conflicts may be resolved within your own existence. The foundation of your development should be guided by the concepts of omnipotence and omniscience. Don't impose artificial limits upon yourself. In principle, anything that another god can accomplish should fall within your potential as well, even if the degree to which you can achieve it varies."
The explanation was extensive, yet to Haruki it remained somewhat abstract, lacking the structure of direct instruction. Still, he could sense that within its ambiguity lay the most practical form of guidance available to him, a principle of self-definition rather than fixed methodology.
It was, in essence, a matter of finding his own path.
"How long until the barrier fails completely?" Haruki asked.
"Thirty years," God replied without hesitation. "In the sixth month of the year 2038, the Great Old Ones will descend upon this world."
It was less time than he had anticipated, far less than what would be required to adequately prepare the world for what was to come. Humanity, even with accelerated development, would not reach a level sufficient to withstand such an incursion within that span of time.
"Very well," Haruki said at last, rising from his seat as though concluding the matter. "Is there anything else? If not, I intend to return to my sister."
"One final thing, my dear son," God said softly, his gaze lingering on him with an expression that carried something almost tender within it. "You may lose your faith in me as time passes, but you must never lose faith in yourself."
Haruki did not respond.
Instead, he simply allowed his consciousness to withdraw from the Dreaming, the world dissolving around him as effortlessly as it had formed. The café vanished, the presence opposite him faded, and the fragile boundary of that realm gave way to the stillness of reality.
He returned to the familiar world, to the suspended moment frozen in time, to the echo of Cao Cao's scream that still lingered in the air. The Spear of Destiny remained firmly in his grasp, unchanged, as though nothing had occurred at all.
It's about time the world begins to move again, Haruki thought, and the world moved again.
…
POV: Hikaru
"You must be the wielder of the Annihilation Maker. It seems we finally meet, Leonardo. I see that it is only the two of you today. That will prove insufficient."
Before she could properly react to her brother's audacity and arrogance in proclaiming that two of the leaders of the Hero Faction would be insufficient to subdue him, her mind froze on the sheer impossibility of the claim. It was an absurd thing to say, and she feared for her brother's sanity at that moment.
Cao Cao and Leonardo were beings whose power surpassed most gods, and the mere mention of their names was enough to make creatures from the lowest spirits to the highest gods recoil in terror.
And her brother had the gall to say they would be insufficient? She wondered if he had gone mad.
Suddenly, she heard a scream, a raw, gut-wrenching scream belonging to someone who had experienced unimaginable pain and loss. She blinked, trying to locate its source, and was astonished to find that it came from Cao Cao himself.
W-what happened?
A cold wave of fear passed through her as her mind struggled to reconcile what she was witnessing. Not even a single second had passed between Haruki's calm, almost dismissive declaration and this moment, and yet Cao Cao, who had stood just an instant ago with the Spear of Destiny in hand, now lay on the ground, his body contorted as he screamed as though he were being consumed by something unbearable.
How is this possible?
She had seen nothing.
There had been no movement, no shift in stance, no flicker of speed that her eyes could not follow. There had been no surge of energy, no distortion in the atmosphere, nothing that would indicate that any form of attack had taken place. One moment he stood unchallenged, and the next he was reduced to this.
It made no sense.
Her gaze shifted instinctively, searching for anything that might offer an explanation, and it was then that she noticed the absence of something else. The massive creature of shadow that had loomed moments earlier, the entity summoned by Leonardo, was gone. It had vanished completely, erased as though it had never existed at all. She could not understand it, and that inability terrified her.
Her thoughts faltered.
How could something like that just disappear?
Could Haruki be responsible for this? A possibility surfaced, and her eyes turned back toward her brother.
He stood there calmly, his posture relaxed, his expression composed in a way that felt almost detached from the chaos unfolding before him. In his hand, unmistakable and undeniable, rested the True Longinus.
Her breath caught.
H-how?
How did he take that spear from Cao Cao?
When did he move?
Even if her brother had become stronger than she remembered, even if he had reached a level that defied her expectations, there should have been at least some level of resistance. Cao Cao was not someone who could be disarmed without a fight, not someone who would simply allow such a thing to happen. The difference in power between them could not possibly be so vast that it would allow everything to end within a fraction of a moment.
And yet, that was exactly what had occurred.
It should not be possible.
There should have been some sign, some effect upon the world itself to indicate that Haruki had acted at all.
[Hmm, time was stopped. How interesting.]
A voice emerged from Miyamoto's chest, calm and analytical, and she recognized it instantly as the presence of her Sacred Gear.
For a brief moment, everything aligned.
If time had truly been halted, then the sequence of events made a terrifying kind of sense. One instant Cao Cao stood unchallenged, and in the next he was already defeated, with no visible transition between those states because there had been no time within which to perceive it.
But that realization only gave rise to another question.
Is stopping time even possible?
And if it is, how did Haruki become capable of something like that?
Doubt stirred quietly within her, a subtle shift in her perception of the person standing before her. It felt, in that moment, as though she were looking at someone she did not fully know, someone who wore the face of her brother yet existed beyond everything she had once understood about him.
And yet, her feelings did not waver.
She loved her brother, deeply and without reservation, and that trust remained intact despite the confusion that now surrounded him. There had to be an explanation, something that would bring clarity to all of this, and she resolved to wait, to listen, and to understand before allowing uncertainty to take root.
Her gaze lingered on him.
The longer she looked, the more something about his presence seemed to shift, becoming almost unreal in its perfection. There was a refinement to his appearance, an elegance that bordered on the unnatural, as though he had been sculpted into something beyond human limitations.
If he had truly become a devil, then it would explain the change in his appearance, since devils were known for their beauty and their seductive nature.
Cao Cao's earlier words resurfaced in her mind. Haruki's master, the devil who had turned him, was apparently a beautiful devil. The thought formed quickly, suggesting the image of a beautiful and powerful devil who might have drawn him in, who might have persuaded or tempted him into accepting such a transformation.
She dismissed it almost as soon as it appeared.
Her brother was far too proud, far too stubborn to be swayed by something as simple as appearance. Wealth, power, status, none of those things had ever held any real influence over him. He was guided by his own principles, unyielding in his convictions, and she could not imagine him abandoning that simply because someone offered him something appealing.
No matter how she considered it, she could not see him willingly choosing to become a devil, especially when that choice would come with the implications of servitude.
Her brother would never accept becoming a slave to another.
That left another possibility.
If he had not chosen it, then perhaps it had been forced upon him.
If he had been bound by some form of contract against his will, then the one who held that contract might have the authority to compel him, to shape his actions according to their own desires.
Her gaze flickered back to him, to the way he stood, to the calm and almost detached manner in which he regarded Cao Cao as he writhed in agony on the ground.
The thought collapsed immediately.
If Haruki possessed the power to defeat someone like Cao Cao so effortlessly, then there was no conceivable way that anyone could force him into submission. Which left only one conclusion that felt even remotely plausible.
Something must have happened, some event or circumstance beyond his control, something that left him with no other option, something that made becoming a devil an inevitability rather than a choice.
Her eyes softened as she looked at him again, and before she could stop herself, tears began to gather at the edges of her vision.
She had missed him. Her foolish brother.
That simple truth rose above all the confusion, all the questions, all the uncertainty that surrounded him now. He was her brother, the one she had grown up with, the one who had filled her days with laughter and irritation in equal measure, the one whose presence had always felt constant and unshakable.
And yet, the person standing before her felt different.
The expression he wore now was calm, composed, and distant in a way that unsettled her. There was a gravity to him that had not been there before, a stillness that replaced the familiar energy she associated with him.
She did not like the grave expression he now wore. Her brother had always carried that annoying smirk or grin that made people want to punch him within minutes of meeting him.
That expression was gone.
In its place was something quieter, something heavier, something that made her chest tighten with an emotion she struggled to fully define.
Relief and sorrow intertwined within her, the joy of seeing him again clashing with the realization that something fundamental had changed. She felt happy that he was here, that he was alive, that he stood before her once more after everything that had happened.
And yet, she could not escape the feeling that she had lost something, that somewhere along the way, the brother she remembered had been altered in ways she did not yet understand.
And for reasons she could not fully explain, she felt as though she bore some small part of responsibility for that change.
Hikaru turned her head slowly to observe the reactions of those standing beside her, as though she needed confirmation that what she had just witnessed was real and not some illusion imposed upon her senses.
Charlemagne stood frozen in place, her composure utterly shattered, her mouth hanging open as she stared ahead in stunned disbelief, unable to reconcile the image before her with the figure she had revered.
To her, Cao Cao was the greatest of heroes, the one destined to lead humanity out of suffering and into an age of glory, a symbol of strength and victory. And yet that same figure now lay on the ground, reduced to a state so pitiful that it felt almost grotesque, screaming with a helplessness that stripped away every trace of the legend she had believed in.
Perseus and Zhuge Liang appeared no less shaken, their expressions tight with shock as their understanding of power was made worthless before their eyes. They knew better than most what Cao Cao was capable of, and to see him brought low in an instant without even the semblance of a struggle left them visibly stunned. Fear settled into their expressions as they looked toward Haruki, as though even the act of acknowledging him too directly might draw his wrath upon them.
Miyamoto Musashi was the least outwardly affected, which made sense since she did not fully grasp the significance of Cao Cao's defeat, or perhaps simply did not care enough to be disturbed by it. Nevertheless, she stood perfectly upright with her sword in hand, remaining in a state of absolute vigilance as though she expected an attack at any moment.
Le Fay Pendragon, however, seemed to bear the full weight of the moment more than any of them. Her entire body trembled as though caught in an unseen storm, her hands shaking, her breathing uneven, and her eyes wide with a fear so raw that it bordered on breaking.
There was something deeply instinctive in her reaction, as though she were standing before a presence she had been warned about since childhood, a nightmare given form, something that should not exist and yet stood before her all the same.
"Haruki!" Hikaru called out, her voice cutting through the tension as she took a step toward him, driven by a need to bridge the distance that had formed between them.
Before she could reach him, however, a sudden shift in the air drew her attention upward.
A teleportation circle began to form high above, its intricate patterns glowing with a radiant intensity as it expanded across the sky. Light spilled downward in cascading streams, illuminating the battlefield in a pale, almost sacred glow as the circle stabilized.
From its center, two figures began to descend, their silhouettes gradually taking shape as they descended from the heavens.
The first was a tall young man whose presence carried a natural sense of royalty, his posture refined, his blond hair catching the light as he descended with measured grace. There was a quiet nobility to him, something unmistakably regal, and at his side rested a sheathed sword, though his hand remained close to its hilt as though ready to draw it at a moment's notice. His expression was troubled, his gaze shifting between the writhing form of Cao Cao and Haruki, as though he were trying to reconcile what he saw with what he knew.
Beside him stood a man whose sheer size made him impossible to ignore. He was easily the tallest person Hikaru had ever seen, his physique built with a powerful solidity that seemed almost excessive. His features were sharp, his expression marked by a deep frown that carved tension into his otherwise handsome appearance.
She recognized them immediately, Arthur Pendragon and Samson, one of the original seven.
"Hello there, Arthur. It's been a while," Haruki said, his voice carrying a deceptively light tone as a faint smile touched his lips. "Have you come to assist your friend? I'm afraid you are somewhat late for that. Although, if you are interested, I would be more than willing to let you experience what he is currently feeling."
"Greetings, Lord of Hell," Samson said, stepping forward slightly before bowing with measured respect. "I am Samson, a representative of the Hero Faction. We come in peace and offer our congratulations on your ascension."
Hikaru did not expect that response at all. She had assumed they would immediately attack Haruki after witnessing what he had done to one of their own, yet instead they had chosen a completely different approach.
"Oh?" Haruki let out a soft chuckle. "Will you also congratulate me for beating up your moronic friend over here as well?"
Neither Arthur nor Samson responded to that, though the tension in their expressions betrayed the strain beneath their composure. Their jaws tightened slightly, their silence speaking of restraint rather than acceptance.
Hikaru felt a flicker of unease.
She wished her brother would stop. Provoking individuals capable of leveling entire nations did not seem like a particularly wise course of action.
"Oh, come now," Haruki continued, his amusement deepening as he looked at them. "I had expected a stronger reaction. I have incapacitated one of your own, and yet you stand there and do nothing? Has your resolve diminished since the last time we met? Where is that fervent conviction, that unwavering declaration that you would destroy anyone who dared to harm your comrades? Or was that merely empty noise?"
Hikaru mentally palmed her face at her brother's audacity. He had completely abandoned any subtlety in favor of openly provoking both of them.
"We only seek to reclaim what belongs to us, Lord Haruki," Arthur said at last, his voice calm and steady despite the circumstances. "We have no quarrel with you."
Haruki let out a loud laugh. "I'm sure the irony of you saying those words is not lost on you, Arthur."
To her astonishment, Arthur stepped forward, and then, without hesitation, he lowered himself to his knees.
"We have wronged you in the past, and I accept full responsibility for those actions," Arthur said, his head slightly bowed, his voice unwavering. "We acted without full understanding of the circumstances, and for that I bear the burden. If you seek retribution, then take it out on me. Allow the others to leave. They are not responsible for what has transpired."
Hikaru felt her breath catch.
Was it truly possible that her brother had become so powerful that they no longer considered resistance a viable option?
The thought felt absurd, and yet everything she had witnessed seemed to support it.
"Kneeling before a devil," Haruki said, his tone laced with disdain. "How utterly pathetic. And you call yourselves the champions of humanity? Where is your pride, boy?"
"A king carries the pride of his people," Arthur replied without hesitation. "And he must be prepared to relinquish it when the situation demands it. If my life can ensure the safety of those who stand with me, then it is a price I accept without regret."
Hikaru felt a tightening in her chest.
She did not want this to end in bloodshed.
Whatever mistakes had been made in the past, whatever grievances lingered between them, these were still the people she had spent months alongside, people she had come to know, to trust, and in some small way, to care for.
"Tch," Haruki clicked his tongue, irritation flashing across his expression. "You think that makes you in any way honorable? You believe your life alone would be sufficient to satisfy whatever wrath you imagine I hold?"
Hikaru did not like where this was going, and she decided to step forward before things could escalate further.
"Brother, please listen to me," she called out, her voice steady yet carrying an undercurrent of emotion she could not entirely conceal. "I don't fully understand what has happened, nor do I claim to grasp everything that has led to this moment. I'm certain that you have your reasons, and I don't doubt that your anger is justified in ways I may not yet see. But will ending their lives truly bring you anything of value? These are the people I have fought beside, the ones I have spent these past months with, and I cannot stand by and watch them be cut down senselessly. I'm asking you, as your sister, to show them mercy."
In truth she was also concerned that her brother might be harmed. No matter how powerful he may appear, she can't help but worry.
Her brother looked troubled at her words, and for a moment she thought she saw shame flicker in his eyes. Perhaps he felt ashamed that she sounded afraid of him? Her voice had come out more fearful than she had intended.
"Are you sure you're my sister?" he said after a moment, tilting his head slightly as a faint, playful note entered his voice. "The Hikaru I remember would struggle to string together a sentence that polite to save her life. When did you become so well-mannered? Are you unwell? Did they clone you?"
There was a deafening silence at that. The response was so unexpected that Hikaru found herself momentarily at a loss, her thoughts stalling as she stared at him in disbelief, while those around her seemed equally unsure of how to react.
Hikaru felt heat rise to her face. This idiot, she thought, irritated. How could he speak to her like that in front of everyone?
"Shut up!" she snapped, her embarrassment breaking through despite herself. "What did you expect me to say when you are standing there looking terrifying and talking about killing people as though it is nothing?"
Haruki smiled. A genuine smile. There was no trace of mockery, no edge of cruelty, only a simple, familiar expression that carried with it a warmth she had not realized she had been missing.
For a moment, everything else faded.
A heavy weight lifted from her chest that she had not even realized she had been carrying. Her brother was still her brother. He had not become some incomprehensible monster. Relief washed through her in waves, softening the fear that had been tightening inside her since the moment Cao Cao had fallen. For the first time since this began, she felt like she could breathe properly again, as though the world had not been stolen from her after all.
He was still him. He's still my brother.
Haruki turned his attention back toward Arthur, who remained kneeling.
"I suppose your sister did intervene on my behalf when I stood against Cao Cao and you back then," he said, his tone returning to a more neutral calm. "Consider this a repayment of that debt. Rejoice, heroes of humanity, for you have been granted the opportunity to continue living. Leave this place. I have no interest in seeing any of you again. And take this useless mess with you."
The "useless mess" in question continued to writhe on the ground, his screams having lost none of their intensity.
Samson moved immediately, appearing beside Cao Cao in an instant before carefully lifting him, his expression somber as he bore the weight of his fallen comrade.
Hikaru felt a quiet sadness settle within her as she watched.
Cao Cao had always seemed untouchable, an unshakable force that stood beyond defeat, and to see him reduced to this state was unsettling in a way she could not easily articulate.
"T-that spear belongs to Lord Cao Cao," Charlemagne said at last, her voice trembling as she forced the words out.
"This?" Haruki lifted the spear slightly, holding it with casual ease as though it were nothing more than an ordinary object. He examined it briefly, as if considering its significance, before a faint smile returned to his lips. "Hmm, I wonder what I should do with it? At the risk of plagiarism…"
He drew it closer, his gaze sharpening slightly. "Whoever holds this spear, if he proves himself worthy, shall become the master of destiny….that should do it."
With that, a portal opened at his side, its dark surface rippling faintly as it stabilized.
Without hesitation, he tossed the spear into it with a careless motion, and it vanished from sight.
No one spoke.
The members of the Hero Faction remained silent, none of them daring to question or challenge what had just occurred.
Hikaru, however, could not help the small, quiet chuckle that escaped her.
Even now, her brother had not entirely abandoned his tendency for pettiness.
AN: I had hoped to finish the sibling reunion in this chapter, but the part with God was longer than I expected it to be. The interaction with God might not be what you expected, but I just couldn't imagine it going any other way. The reason is that the DxD God of the Bible is not omnipotent, so you can't really blame Him for the existence of evil or anything like that. The question is already answered, he can't. Haruki recognized that as well.
Now the idea of ExE is something that is collectively ignored by the fandom, amusingly enough, and who can blame us? The execution just isn't good. But even in fanfics, it's barely explored at all. There is actually a lot of potential for cosmic horror there. I find the idea of ExE in canon to be quite interesting, a race of beings strong enough to defeat great red(which is bullshit, btw) attacking the main universe is a very cool concept. What I didn't like was that they were just machine lifeforms with delusions of grandeur.
So instead, I made them eldritch, Lovecraftian monstrosities. Entities that are incomprehensible and insane, and that cannot be defeated in direct confrontation. Another change is that they are not stronger than Great Red. Great Red is the strongest creature in the world, the power ceiling, so to speak. Making any opponent stronger than him would only lead to power creep. So they are generally at his level, but he could take them one-on-one.
If you enjoy my writing, consider supporting me on Patreon. You can read up to four chapters ahead there: patreon.com/abeltargaryen?