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Overlord of biblical proportions: The new Three-Sided War (5)
🕑 Added 2024-03-08 02:09:57 +0000 UTCFafnir had lasted almost twelve seconds against Lucifer, and perhaps against another opponent, such a remark might have sounded like mockery. To last a ‘full’ twelve seconds in a fight sounded mocking to one of the most powerful inhabitants of the paranormal world, but against Sirzechs, there was no mockery in such a remark, only respect.
Respect that, however, could not change the objective reality before Ajuka’s eyes. Fafnir's mighty dragon body was torn into pieces by Sirzechs' attacks, leaving most of his body consisting mostly of only bloody gaps, making the sight as comical as it was horrifying.
A dragon turned into Swiss cheese.
Fafnir had lasted a lot longer than most could, but that was the end of Fafnir's accomplishments. On the thirteenth, unlucky, second of the fight, if it could be called that, a failed dodge had left Fafnir without a head, as it exploded into shards of flesh, brain matter and bones. Viscera that was vaporized a moment later by the force of Sirzechs' attacks.
With its head gone, Fafnir’s body shuddered one last time, as if it was reluctant to admit that it was dead, the body still moving in rage even as the brain could no longer command it. But, even a dragon’s great rage could not overturn reality, and so, with one last shudder in an aborted furious scream, Fafnir died.
Its dead body began to tumble to the side before crashing to the ground with a loud thump, kicking up clouds of dust in the huge crater that was the Grigori’s Governor-General former palace.
Even with the fight done, Ajuka, however, did not rush immediately to Sirzechs’ side.
Stopping at the edge of the deep crater, he watched as the seething mass of black and red [Power of Destruction] began to calm down, slowly gathering into a single lump that took on anthropomorphic features. Until, slowly, the churning force of Destruction first gathered into the form of a man, then took the shape of the Lucifer. Then, finally, like a liquid moving in violation of all the laws of physics, it gathered into a single being, and now Sirzechs stood over the form of the defeated Fafnir.
Despite the fact that he had returned to his normal form, Ajuka decided that it would be a good idea to give Sirzechs some more time to calm down, taking the time instead to observe the surroundings.
Everywhere Beelzebub looked, the situation looked apocalyptic…
Well, for the Fallen Angels, the situation could definitely be described as such. Deep furrows were dug wherever Sirzechs’ [Power of Destruction] touched, all the buildings were now nothing more than ruins, and the area was littered by the scattered body parts from those fallen that had not been completely vaporized.
The environment around the two Devils could not be called the result of a battle, but a true massacre. Others would see an indiscriminate and deliberate act of extermination of an entire faction, in fact, a genocide.
Ajuka knew that this was not the case, Sirzechs was not aiming for such an end, but such destruction was simply an accidental consequence of fighting Sirzechs. It was no more than collateral damage.
Despite his great anger, Sirzechs was simply aiming for Kokabiel, then Azazel for the bad luck of being in his way, who had almost shared the same fate as Fafnir.
But well, saying that the Fallen Angel was wiped out because they were too weak to survive being near Sirzechs would not sound better. So what’s the point of quibbling about the fact that Sirzechs was not aiming at the Fallen Angels if they were dead, all the same?
Now fully assuming his usual human form, Sirzechs, standing over the body of the defeated Fafnir, slowly drew in air, covering his eyes before taking a step back. Now, without the veil of anger and madness covering his eyes, he surveyed his surroundings, seeing the same thing as Ajuka did.
He could have reacted in many different ways at that moment. He could tell Sirzechs that he wasn't to blame for what had happened, that the Fallen had attacked first and provoked him into doing this. Or perhaps even seriously suggest that Sirzechs has simply taken part in the Fallen Angels’ planned mass suicide, Ajuka even think that he has a moderately high chance of making it convincing… But such senseless reassurances would not be passing his lips.
At the very least, not when he was wading knee-deep, figuratively speaking, in the blood and flesh of the Fallen who had all died because of Sirzechs' pain and rage.
Besides, Sirzechs wasn't stupid, he could come to the conclusion that he wasn’t entirely at fault, on his own, unaided. The only problem was that no words could undo what had already happened. The Fallen Angel, as a faction, if not as a species, had been destroyed. The remnants of the faction were now running for their lives, all possible plans for peace between the Three Biblical Factions and a peace treaty between them, might as well be forgotten as a pipe dream.
It took his friend a long time to take in the great amount of destruction he had caused, and what it would mean for the future. The whole paradigm of the Devil Faction, nay, the entire supernatural world would change because of this. Breathing in and out at a calm, measured pace, Sirzechs closed his eyes.
And when he opened them, Ajuka could see that he had come to terms with his actions.
Looking up at Ajuka, with slow, disobedient, parched lips, Sirzchs spoke for the first time after he had heard news that the Gremory was under attack. "We need to go back…".
“Yes.” Ajuka nodded, agreeing easily. With one last nod, Sirzechs swiped his hand, creating a portal back to the Devil territory before he staggered back home through it.
Ajuka took one last look at the previously bustling Fallen Angel city, now nothing more than a mass grave, a monument of the foolishness of touching a Dragon’s reverse scale, before following after Sirzechs.
They both had long sleepless nights ahead of them in order to fully path out the changed world ahead of them.
***
Azazel did not allow himself to linger in the doomed area searching for those Fallen Angels who were still surely alive but badly wounded, or trying to save as many of his charges as possible from the distraught Lucifer. The decision to abandon the wounded may have been cruel and heartless, but it was a logical one.
It was better to lose three dozen severely wounded Fallen that would have probably died trying to evacuate, than allowing the tens of thousands of Fallen to continue lingering near the Lucifer.
So Azazel ran away.
Another random swing of Lucifer's hand had wiped out the centralized alarm control server for the Fallen during his rampage, and Azazel hadn't even noticed that fact, too absorbed in trying not to die. However, now, when he had finally managed to escape the Devil's clutches, he finally noticed the ominous silence over the ruins of the formerly prosperous city of Fallen Angels.
A silence that was only occasionally interrupted by the distant sounds of buildings collapsing in the distance, the result of Lucifer’s attacks that had made its way even to the outskirts of the Fallen city. If there were to be a silver lining to this destruction is that even a blind and dead Fallen Angel would not miss the disaster and had evacuated.
At least those who were still alive and were not vaporized by the beams of Destruction.
Azazel, still balancing on his only leg with ragged wings, buoyed his flagging mood by the fact that the other Cadre must’ve helped with the evacuation. Surely, they had not come to his aid, because they judged the situation correctly and must’ve tried to organize the surviving Fallen to evacuate.
Could this be considered a chance to save the fallen faction?
No.
But at least they would live another extra day as they start their Exodus to whatever safe haven they could find.
As the sight of his life’s work crumbling to dust finally settled in, Azazel's gaze caught a flicker of black wings in the distance, thankfully that of the Fallen, and not the Devils coming to finish the job. The blot of black turned into a recognizable figure as it came closer, making him breathe easier, as much as his destroyed body could anyway.
Spitting out a clod of black-red blood from his punctured lungs, he could only shrug. Why should he care about it? His wounds would heal in time and his lost limbs could be replaced by prosthetic limbs, it would be quite the novel research subject for him, but he was sure that he could… If he could only lead the Fallen Angels safely away anyway.
Closer now, Azazel could finally make out who it was that was approaching him. He had to admit that seeing Baraqiel’s frowning, wrinkled face took a load of worry off of his back, and with his tattered wings, he couldn’t carry much right now.
Landing heavily, causing a cloud of dust to puff out, Baraqiel hurried to his side and began inspecting his wounds, focusing more on his missing wings and limbs. Azazel had to admit, he definitely didn’t miss the mother hen treatment, though.
“I'll live, it'll take months to recover… And I’ll figure out something about the missing limbs.” Seeing the still worried look on the macho face almost made Azazel hurl, if good naturedly, why couldn’t it be someone good-looking that had found him first?
“Whatever, I’ll manage.” Azazel grinned weakly, but any attempt at bravado in his condition was like a feast during a plague, nothing more than a smokescreen. He gripped Baraqiel's shoulders more tightly, the gesture was reciprocated as Baraqiel quickly led him to where the other Fallen were.
“Shemhazai lost half his limbs and is in a coma. He was closest to the epicenter of the Lucifer’s rampage except for you, but he'll pull through. Zachariel lost an arm, Tamiel a leg, but Armaros, myself and Penemue are fine. As for the other lower ranked Fallen…” Baraqiel was silent for a moment, confirming Azazel’s fear, the Fallen Angel’s population, not something large to begin with, had just suffered greatly.
At least there are three Cadres that are fine, already much better than he had hoped for. And with his future research plans, the others would be in fighting order soon.
“Armaros and Penemue are conducting emergency evacuations, last I heard from them, they had found about thirty thousand each. I have only rescued four thousand so far, the survivors much scarcer this close to the battlefield… But, if we continue looking, then…”
“Don’t. Stop the search now.” Azazel shattered Baraqiel's desire to save as many Fallen Angels as possible.
“I won't risk the ones we had already saved by staying in this place for another second. All the Fallen Angels that haven't gathered at the evacuation point are either dead, badly injured, or have already escaped on their own.”
Baraqiel glanced at Azazel, shocked, opening and closing his mouth several times, clearly wanting to object to his order. But, a look at Azazel’s ragged form, and with the danger that the two unaccounted Satans represented, he nodded.
“Copy that.”
Of course, Azazel didn't want to leave his fellow Fallen Angels, his own charges, those who were probably still alive at the moment, to be torn apart by the Devils. But Azazel couldn't jeopardize the other Fallen either, ones that he had to protect at all costs. Sixty-four thousand fallen were far more important than the bare few that he would gamble those tens of thousands of lives trying to save.
“Where to next?” Baraqiel's voice made Azazel wince, both from the pain in his torn body and from the thought that the Fallen had to leave their home now. Their great city, even if the Devils for some reason decided not to take over, was already nothing more than ruins, they have to leave.
But, where else could the Fallen go?
Was it the fate of the Fallen to be like Daddy's favorite people and be forced to wander once again? They had lost their first Home when their wings were blotted black, as Heaven was only the homes of Angels, and their black wings had marked them as otherwise. And so they followed the lead of the first Angel to have fallen, Lucifer, and had gone to the Underworld.
But, if the Fallen had ever any hope of joining in with Lucifer, perhaps helping him take over the much weakened Hell as its pantheon was losing its power, encroached on by the growing Christianity, that hope was soon dashed. Lucifer, perhaps trying to copy Daddy’s achievement, had made his own Supernatural Race, the Devils, and Lucifer was not in the habit of sharing.
And so, the Fallen had struck out on their own, picking a territory not wanted by anyone, well, except for Lucifer, who had claimed all of Underworld for himself, which had meant constant war between the Fallen and the Devils.
And then the Great War happened, and Lucifer has more things to worry about than the Fallen Angels squatting on the periphery of his lands. Of course, by that point the Fallen had established themselves enough that they participated in the Great War as well, to gain more land and to cement their position.
By the time the Great War ended, the Devils were too embroiled in their own Civil War to care for the Fallen Angels, even finally accepting that the Fallen would be a permanent resident of the Underworld. Finally, the Fallen Angel has a home of their own.
As he surveyed the crumbling buildings and the wasteland in front of him, Azazel simply chuckled. Oh, how easily they had lost their home time and time again. First because they had broken Daddy’s commandments, and now because one of their leaders, a Cadre, had decided that he wanted to sign the Fallen’s suicide pact.
Perhaps Kokabile had forgotten the times when the Fallen were nothing more than a roaming band of Black-Winged vagrants, having to fight for everything they could scrounge up. And now, Kokabiel, in his misbegotten pride, had destroyed their home.
So, now where were the Fallen to flee to when both Heaven and Hell would want nothing more than their death?
Could the Fallen be called a faction now? They were still powerful enough, at least when compared to the many small factions in the world. And with his knowledge of the [Sacred Gear] system, there are many things that the Fallen could offer a prospective patron. And the Fallen would definitely be in need of one, as those same small factions would be more than happy enough to steal what they could from the weakened Fallen.
But who would take them in? There are not many powers in the world that would take in such poisoned assets as the Fallen now and risk gaining the ire of the Devils, that would most definitely be on a warpath now.
Stand on their own once again? Perhaps if the Devils would not seek to destroy them, there would be a chance that the Fallen would successfully rebuild. They had done it once a long time ago, they could do it again. Sixty-four thousand, possibly seventy thousand Fallen Angels, if Penemue and Armaros had found more survivors, were nothing to sneeze at.
It would be a hard fought battle, they would need space, resources, and influence any society that would accept them… And yet, the Fallen were undoubtedly not in a position to ‘dictate their will’ to the other factions, so where could they find such things?
Option after option ran through Azazel’s mind before coming together into a list of requirements that would dictate where the Fallen would go next. A weak enough faction that Azazel could still hope to come to an agreement with, by offering favors and at worst by pushing with his power. It also needs to be a faction outside the Devils' area of interest. A faction close to more powerful existences who Azazel could use as a bulwark to try to keep the Devils at bay, who would take offense to any outsiders?
A faction with a significant surplus of resources and territory, hates outsiders enough that they might even pick a fight with the Devils, and yet open enough that Azazel might be able to negotiate with them…
“Romania…” Azazel came to one single conclusion, causing Baraqiel to look at him with a questioning look, as if to ask if he were sure.
“We're going to vampire territory in Europe.” With a grim nod, Azazel confirmed his orders.
The ancient gods of the Balkan territories had long ago retired to their personal worlds, leaving the territory under the undivided dominion of the vampires, a rather weak and fragmented faction currently divided into two opposing camps. Azazel planned to take advantage of the current situation to sell the services of the surviving Fallen Angels to one of the sides in exchange for their continued survival.
The location was perfect, since the Devils had an extremely low presence in the Old Gods' abode, with the Balkans being practically the neighbors of the Vatican and Heaven itself. Much less would the Devils’ act so brazenly on the borders of the Greek Pantheon, which still retained a position of strength, if heavily diminished from the ancient days, on the world stage.
Of course Azazel himself did not want to be anywhere near the center of Heaven's power, the Vatican, but under the current circumstances he had to scrimp on something in order to preserve what he still had.
“Under the nose of the White Wings… Michael would be having conniptions if he learned of us.” Baraqiel muttered to himself, causing Azazel to sigh as he watched the crowds of survivors scattered around him, some silently awaiting his decision, some panicking among themselves trying to find lost friends or relatives. And some are still moaning in pain, trying to keep the blood from their lost limbs and crushed body parts, as trying to treat them now would take too much time and expose them to even more danger.
Just being on the periphery of the fight, Lucifer had created devastation on par with the worst battles the Fallen had ever been in…
“I don't know where you went when you died, Kokabiel," Azazel clenched his teeth so hard that he felt them begin to crumble from the strain. "But I hope you suffer for each and every one of the Fallen that had died and suffered because of your damn pride…”
Baraqiel, hearing Azazel’s remark, could only silently continue to do his job, trying to get Azazel to the rest of the surviving Cadres as quickly as possible.
***
Silence had settled over the battlefield, or perhaps it was better called a massacre ground. A place, which, until a few minutes ago, had been a riot of black and scarlet colors, the display of power by the Lucifer and the sight of the desperate struggle of Azazel, Kokabiel and Fafnir for their lives.
That place was soon again disturbed by the appearance of a dark portal, similar to those used by the Devils, that suddenly grew in size, creating a huge gateway through which several dozen people could easily pass at once.
However, contrary to what the Fallen Angels might expect, what came out was not the ranks of Devils bearing the insignia of the Gremory, coming to kill them all. No, what came out of the portal was monsters, of all shapes and sizes.
Huge lizards on two legs, either pushing forward transports, or were pulling carts. Two-legged insects of various kinds and shapes, which were followed by marching armies of undead. The two kinds of creatures, the bugs, and the undead, like a single well-oiled machine, traveled in ranks and separated into positions as if following a predetermined plan.
Disregarding the devastation and still smoking craters, the creatures that emerged from the portals headed for the ruins, and the scattered bodies strewn around. Picking up one body after another, pieces and parts of bodies, unpretentious loot and even scattered building materials.
Everything that could be useful for further analysis of Nazarick's always striving for perfection military machine were picked up.
One by one, the bodies of the fallen dead, or what was left of them, disappeared into the numerous carts and wagons. With methodical efficiency and silence, without a sound other than the stomping of the feet of the creatures doing their work professionally, the battlefield was picked clean.
Until suddenly, the sound of the creatures' stomping was joined by the sound of falling slabs being moved and rubble being removed, before the silence was broken by the shrill cry.
“Get away! Get away from me!”
It was true that not all of the Fallen Angels unlucky enough to be in the path of the Lucifer's attacks had all been killed, proof that divine miracles happened even to His rejected children.
But in future reports about the Lucifer’s attack on the Fallen, there would be no survivor reported.
The shrill cry was soon interrupted. After which, a draconid emerging from the half-destroyed house strode to a standing wagon, unloading the bound, though still alive, body of the Fallen man, before returning to his task, entrusting the standing watcher to oversee the captured foe.
The destruction caused by the Lucifer’s rampage was extensive, but he was not focusing on destroying the Fallen. However, the actions of the horde of monsters that had next appeared when all eyes were no longer focused on the ruins of the Fallen city were like a single coordinated mechanism focused on devouring everything.
It could be described as a colony of ants devouring everything in its path in search of resources. Not to mention that after Nigredo's reconnaissance, Momonga had been hesitant to send an expeditionary corps too close to a large crowd of fleeing fallen. Instead, preferring to settle solely for the epicenter of the demon attack, rather than risk a confrontation with Azazel.
And so after only a few dozen minutes, the scene of the battle, if it could be called such, between the Lucifer and the fallen angels had been cleared of all life. And the expeditionary corps that had picked all they could, picked up their wagons, now filled with body parts, objects and materials, and headed back into the newly manifested shimmering passageway through the worlds.
The monsters left behind nothing but ruins, emptiness, and silence standing over the looted burial ground of the destroyed faction.
***
In all of Kuoh, it was too hard to miss the explosion that had engulfed the Kuoh Academy building. And so it also did not pass Katase's attention, causing her to jump in surprise and fear at the sound of the destruction before she rushed to the window, trying to see the cause of such a great cacophony.
“Katase, get away from the window!” Katase's father's voice sounded so loud and yet so far away, he couldn't get Katase to move away. And so, she saw first hand, how the Academy literally shattered by what she could only assume was some kind of bomb.
To her horror, she saw the explosion in the distance as it slowly and steadily began to make the Academy lurch and break apart under the laws of physics.
Perhaps if Katase had been closer, she would have been able to see the oddly unnatural cleanliness with which the walls of the academy had been demolished away from the blast, like it was some kind of controlled demolition. Not to mention the fact that an explosion of that magnitude was hard to write off as a domestic accident, definitely not something lame like gas leakage, There was no plume of fire for instance.
But at the moment, the horrifying and mesmerizing sight made her stop thinking, losing all thought of the cause of the explosion and instead fixing her gaze on the monolithic building's destruction.
“Katase!” In a moment her father finally had enough and had bodily picked her up and pulled her away from the window, fearing a second explosion or the glass breaking injuring Katase. But there was no second blast, nor did their window break, and so without her Father letting her go, Katase went back to the window, looking through it at the crumbling buildings in the distance.
A dozen seconds later, when the collapse of the building seemed to have stopped, the sounds of sirens began wailing in the distance, several of them at once. Before long Katase could see a procession of emergency vehicles; ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars heading in the direction of the academy.
Katase was transfixed by the sight before the loud shrill call of her cell phone brought her out of it. Checking the caller ID she saw that it was Murayama, putting the phone to her ear as she accepted the call, she had to take her ear away as Maruyama started shouting.
“No way, did you see, did you see?!”
“Of course! How could I not?” Shaking her head at her friend’s ridiculousness, Katase finally freed herself from her Father’s grasp as surveyed her destroyed school as emergency services crowded around the gate.
“What did you think happened?!”
“I have no idea!” Murayama, no less lost but also no less interested in what had happened, replied with a voice so loud that Katase could probably hear it from her house even without a phone. The sound hitting the girl's ears is no quieter than the exploding building.
“Could it be terrorists?!” And of course, her friend immediately went to the more ridiculous ideas.
“No, of course not!” Katase replied instantly before her brain could form a rational thought, given the utter absurdity of such an idea, before Katase's thoughts caught up with her tongue, silencing her.
Gas? There were never any gas pipes running under Kuoh!
A wiring problem? Katase was certainly no electrical engineer or physicist, but an explosion certainly didn't seem like something that could come out of an electric fault.
And given that the academy grounds were clearly not a repository for explosive substances and objects… Although absurd, terrorists bombing the school was the most probable of all explanations. The most horrifying, and yet the most realistic, cause of what had happened.
“No, it couldn’t be!” Forcibly suppressing such a thought, Katase tried to control her breath, and her burgeoning fear. The idea of having the same place where she spent most of her time being a target for terrorists caused a thrill of fear to run through her back. What if the bomb had exploded during school hours!?
“Let's wait for the investigation and the official statement!”
For a moment Murayama was silent and Katase thought the crisis was over, but a moment later her friend made a move that completely surprised her as it literally came out of nowhere.
“We have to ask Satoru!”
“Wh-what!?” Now it was Murayama's turn to turn away from the speaker of her phone, avoiding the loud sound Katase had made, before she returned to the receiver and started speaking quickly, lest Katase shout her ideas down immediately.
“Think about it! A mysterious newcomer shows up at the school, after which incredible events begin to happen! Like the curing of the Perverted Trio! Underground fights, making money from them, and now school bombings! Don't you see the connection?!”
“Murayama, that’s a plot from a particularly idiotic anime, not real life!” Katase, starting to calm down a bit and feeling the adrenaline from watching the explosion recede, tried to get his best friend to see common sense. “That's not how any of these works!”
“You can't dismiss an idea just because it sounds like a plot for an anime! Especially considering how much everything fits into my theory!” Murayama counter argued.
“Even an anime plot had to take some inspiration from real life!”
“Murayama, you're just making things up now! Where would magical girls anime even take their inspiration from! You’re being ridiculous!”
Katase tried to make his friend see straight, but a small worm of interest did niggle into her mind, making her attempt at dissuading her friend a bit half-hearted. If that small worm sounded more like an infatuation where she wanted to know more about Satoru and wanted a reason to visit his house, Murayama didn’t comment on it.
Of course, Katase realized that it was all just a bit silly, but there was no problem in checking on Satoru just in case…
“Well, we can ask about it after the weekend…” Katase remained uncertain, but was instantly swept away by Murayama’s fervor.
“After the weekend, where?! Or do you think they'll let us study in a school where there's just been an explosion?! Or do you think he's going to tell us if he's involved in something that's blowing up entire academies?! Katase, you don't know anything about gathering information!”
“As if you know all about it!” Katase was naturally indignant, but it wasn't as if she could dismiss Murayama's words, they sounded too logical at the moment.
“So what do you suggest?”
“We definitely can't find out directly from Satoru, and we definitely can't wait until Monday. If we can't stay home, we'll most likely be sent to another school, so we have to find out from… Hmm, certainly not Issei, so we don't have much choice! We need to ask his foster mom, Miki Hyoudou! In two hours, after the panic subsides, meet me at my house! Satoru won't be able to keep his secrets from us!”
After another moment, Murayama was the first to hang up, leaving Katase to her own thoughts, looking at the clock hanging in front of her before sighing.
Left to her own devices, however, Katase could at least admit to herself that she was genuinely interested in what was going on, especially with Satoru… Even if it was probably utterly stupid. Really, what kind of person did Murayama think Satoru is!?
There’s no way he could be in any way connected to a terrorist attack, of all things!
“I told her that watching too much anime would rot her brain, now see where that had led her… Anyway,” Katase reassured herself that she was just going to check on Satoru, as she looked at the ruins of Kuoh Academy in the distance.
"Talking to Ms. Hyoudou should clear things up…"
***
Miki, covering the simmering pot of broth partially, allowing it to release its steam to avoid a possible incident, hummed a wordless song to herself. Surveying the progress of her cooking with mild satisfaction, she nodded to herself as if to internally cross another thing off her list.
Not that she had a list of specific things to do in her head, other than a couple simple ones like 'behave like a decent mother' and 'serve Master Momonga faithfully'. But, every step to accomplishing that list still made Miki feel a warmth spilling over into her heart, which made Miki express that one in the form of a melody composed as she cooked.
Ever since Lord Momonga appeared in her life, life had become much simpler, and more importantly, happier. There was no need to think about anything, or worry.
Before Lord Momonga had shown her the truth of her place in life, Miki had repeatedly wondered how she should behave in relationships, whether Gorou was a good husband, whether Issei would grow up to be a good man. The constant worrying about her own life, her place in that life, thinking about the years of life she had already lived and what she had left to live… All of that was now gone, and she couldn’t be happier.
With the arrival of Lord Momonga, the Supreme Being, in her life, all these questions were a thing of the past.
Was Gorou a good husband, and would Issei grow up to be a good man? What meaning existed in that question if they were both dead?
Who was Miki Hyoudou, had she lived her life well, how was she supposed to live her life going forward? She was Issei's mother, Satoru's adoptive mother, and Lord Momonga's pet.
Knowing this truth was comforting, relieving her of the doubts about her life, the agonizing reevaluation of the past, and the doubts about the future. Her place and her future were determined in this life, all lay in the hands of Lord Momonga, the inscrutable and omniscient Supreme Being above even all Gods.
Many had found comfort in God, justified tragedies by the Lord's will, and trusted in His providence for their future, and Miki could now understand that personally. Receiving the covenantal words that she occupied the place she was meant to occupy.
Who could fail to find comfort in, quite literally, the divine assurance, the divine truth that Miki was exactly where she must be?
It was like the absolution of all sins by the Lord, encouragement for whatever journey she was on.
After all, why could Miki not find peace in knowing her place in the world?
If God did exist, it was a comfort to both the righteous and the sinner. Knowing that the Lord knows all things, sees all things and is able to do all things, the righteous would know that they would be recompensed for all their suffering, while the sinner would know that they were already doomed. And so both would be at peace about their future.
Calmness and stability were the only things Miki could feel after she had awakened into her new place in life. And from this calmness was born happiness, and confidence in the future. The words of support from an immeasurably powerful god and the infinite wisdom of a ruler were all given to her – did Miki need anything else from life to be happy?
The loss of her husband and son and the suffering they had endured no longer troubled Miki, other than recognizing the fact of what had happened. If the Supreme Being willed it, how could Miki not recognize the justice in what had happened?
The Sun rose in the east, there was nothing sad about it – it was simply a fact. On the contrary, every time the Sun rose, each person felt, in this fact, a confirmation of the certainty of the coming day. If on the other hand the Sun rose in the west, without anything else happening, neither bad nor good, the whole world would go crazy.
So what if people burn their eyes watching the sun?
And so Miki was happy, calm, and most importantly, devoid of any doubts or regrets, past, present, or future, doing what she was supposed to be doing as a mother and as a pet.
Dimming the fire on the stove, Miki stretched, thinking about what she was supposed to be doing at the moment. Lord Momonga had departed for Nazarick, his Sacred Land. While Lord Pandora’s Actor, who had taken the form of Miki's own son, Issei, Lord Momonga's creation, and Lady Albedo, Lord Momonga's consort, departed to attend to their own affairs, leaving Miki alone for a brief period of time.
But this did not cause Miki any sadness, for, after all, it meant that Miki had to be left alone for a reason.
The sound of the doorbell ringing, however, caused Miki to be very surprised, trying to imagine who might be showing up on her doorstep at this moment, perhaps an officer with information about her husband? It was unlikely, such an investigation was bound to go on for at least a few weeks before someone would have informed Miki of the lack of results.
And Miki was certain that no one would have been able to locate her husband's body.
Upon reaching the intercom, however, Miki was surprised to hear the voice of two girls.
“Miss Hyoudou? I'm sorry, this may sound very strange, but we're high school students, um we’re frien… From the same year with Issei, we'd like to talk to you about Satoru. It’s Katase, and Murayama, you may have heard of us from Issei…? Can we come in?”
Miki frowned for a moment before she answered nonetheless, opening the door. “Yes, of course…”
Katase and Murayama… Miki had definitely heard of them before, the most frequent victims of Issei and his friends' perversions, theirs was a name that Miki had heard many times before, especially with Issei complaining about something or other.
But what exactly did they want to discuss Satoru at the moment…?
Miki thought about it for a second before shrugging her shoulders.
In any case, their appearance here was also part of the reality provided to her by Lord Momonga. And so, all that was left for Miki to do and think of in this situation was to figure out why exactly they had appeared in her house.
And how her actions with them would serve Lord Momonga’s great plan.
Comments
Vincent
I wonder will they notice that suddenly body’s of the dead are gone like even bits and pieces and the foot prints since an army from nazarick was dispatched Picking up one body after another, pieces and parts of bodies, unpretentious loot and even scattered building materials.
Súper hibrid
I wonder what will happen to Fafnir's body
