Chapter 83……………………………….
“Make me into the Demon King… What do you mean by that?”
Does that even make sense?
That the Holy Pontiff would try to turn the Saintess into the Demon King.
Surely that has to be a misunderstanding.
“Of course, it’s only speculation. But Nox and I agreed it’s best to keep that possibility in mind and be cautious.”
“Can you explain it to me?”
Asterios nodded lightly and relayed to Rosiana everything he and Nox had discussed.
“Hm… It’s not as straightforward as I thought. Too vague and ambiguous. There are still many pieces missing.”
“Indeed.”
Rosiana lowered her gaze, lost in thought. Her expression grew serious, so Asterios gently held her hand.
“As, I have a question. There’s no chance the war is actually the will of the Celestial God, right?”
“…Why do you think that?”
“If the angels wanted the war to continue, then maybe it was divine will. You said yourself—angels are beings that follow only the orders of the God of Heaven. They shouldn’t have personal desires or motives apart from elevating the Celestial Realm.”
Her question was reasonable.
Angels were beings without desire, messengers who carried out divine will without selfish emotions.
They lived only to enact the God’s will and to worship Him.
But then… if such beings suddenly had desires and purposes of their own, was that even possible?
Unless war itself was the will of God.
“But if that were true, Gabriel would not have fallen. His fall means he did something forbidden by God. Which means, conversely, that the war is not the will of God.”
“Then how did an angel, who shouldn’t have any desires, come to harbor a forbidden one?”
Ah.
At Rosiana’s logical question, a spark lit in Asterios’s eyes.
As if puzzle pieces were slowly clicking into place, his thoughts grew clearer. He calmly raised his golden eyes.
“I see. Perhaps human prayers influenced him somehow. Angels weren’t always like this. It was after they grew obsessed with prayers that they began to change.”
“…Is there something special about prayer?”
“The Celestial God and the angels grow stronger the more earnestly humans pray.”
“Stronger, huh…”
Would an almighty God truly desire to become even stronger?
Rosiana suddenly looked up, locking eyes with Asterios.
“My thoughts are a bit different, As. Could it be something like this?”
She considered another possibility.
“Gabriel grew stronger through human prayers, and eventually his heart changed. At first, he wanted the prayers to continue for the sake of God and Heaven. But later, greed grew in him—he wanted to become a god himself.”
“!”
The leader of the angels wanted to become God?
“Surely angels have free will too.”
“…Yes.”
If that were true, how would God have reacted?
Would He welcome it—or deem it rebellion?
A shadow crossed Asterios’s gaze.
“It’s a plausible idea. But honestly, I can’t predict that far. Even back when I ruled the cosmos, I never saw the Celestial God directly.”
“What??”
Asterios had been a dragon with form. Since time immemorial, he had governed the dark expanse of the universe, present wherever shadows lay.
But he had never once seen the Celestial God. He had only assumed that, since there was night and day in the universe, if he ruled the darkness, then surely there must be someone who created and maintained the universe of light.
And to confirm that thought, at some point, angels had appeared. They claimed to be the God’s messengers, declaring that everything in the heavens belonged to Him.
“I cannot predict the reaction of a being I have never seen.”
“Well, everything we’ve said is still conjecture. We’ll have to keep observing closely.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Rosiana nodded firmly, her expression set with resolve.
“In any case, if As’s prediction is right, my mana growing stronger could become a problem. So, no physical contact for the time being.”
“!”
His face went blank in an instant.
“It’s not like I want this either. But if we get too close, I end up absorbing your mana without meaning to.”
“…”
There was no helping it—they had to endure.
“…Then, at least until the moment before you absorb it—would that be allowed?”
Asterios’s eyes widened almost pleadingly, making Rosiana’s mouth fall open.
Unbelievable. He actually has a side like this?!
Even centuries ago, when she spent days of bliss with Tenebres, he had never acted like this.
“If not, then even without touching you… just allow me to stay by your side.”
His tender voice and expression nearly brought Rosiana to tears.
How could anyone refuse when he asks so earnestly?!
“…Haah. Fine, alright.”
Only after her reluctant sigh of an answer did Asterios’s face brighten like the sun.
But just a few days later—
She regretted giving in so easily.
“Why are you here?”
Edwin frowned deeply at the visitor. To his surprise, it was Mephisto.
“I had questions, but Asterios isn’t in his room, and the old priest is praying.”
Of course, what he really needed was another room to rest in, since Nea was currently very busy in his room tonight—again, as a succubus. But he would never admit that aloud.
I shouldn’t have brought up that whole bug thing…
From inside his room came Nea’s moans and gasps.
Mephisto could only curse his past self for such poor decisions.
“You’ve got questions? Well, you’re here now—sit.”
Unexpectedly, instead of kicking him out, Edwin politely offered a seat. Mephisto had expected anger or hostility, but this was more like being treated as an honored guest.
“You saw a hallucination too, didn’t you? The Duke of Tenebres—several times, in fact.”
Mephisto cut to the chase as soon as he sat.
“Yeah. You think that’s strange?”
Both of them had seen illusions inside the Secret Fog—visions tied to their painful pasts or connections. But they had overcome them without much trouble.
“Same trial, but his was tougher? That’s insulting.”
Mephisto sneered. Edwin raised a brow.
“You’re angry because you got an easier test? You really are twisted.”
“Of course. I’m the strongest one here. Shouldn’t I have faced the hardest trial?”
Mephisto lifted his chin proudly. Edwin just shook his head with a faint laugh.
“Yeah, that’s just the kind of lunatic you are.”
The type who would always chase what was forbidden, who thrived on danger, who eliminated anyone in his way without hesitation—the cruel master of the demon realm.
“Though honestly, it’s also because I suspect my lady was at that mountain.”
“What?”
That was no laughing matter. Edwin’s face hardened.
“Do you have proof?”
Mephisto wanted to snap back—Don’t you see her with Asterios?—but he held his tongue.
If he admitted that much, it would be like acknowledging Rosiana and Asterios as lovers. Mephisto refused to do that.
After all, she would soon be his woman.
“No proof.”
But his sharp instincts were proof enough. He could sense a shift in her heart.
“What?”
Edwin blinked at Mephisto’s brazen tone. Before he could call it nonsense, Mephisto asked another question.
“Have you learned anything about the Holy Pontiff?”
Edwin’s eyes sharpened.
“You want to join forces on that matter?”
“Why not? The others are all just extras. In the end, it’ll be between us at the final gate.”
Edwin clicked his tongue—but Mephisto wasn’t wrong. Best to know one’s strongest rivals as well as possible.
The Holy Pontiff was clearly a formidable contender.
“Those with holy power don’t seem to have seen hallucinations.”
“Yeah. The blessed ones either.”
“Then the person who died—it wasn’t you, was it?” Edwin pressed.
“No reason to touch the extras,” Mephisto replied flatly.
Edwin leaned in closer, scrutinizing him.
“It was definitely murder.”
“Of course. But not me.”
Edwin already suspected as much. As Mephisto said, killing participants in Dreart served no purpose.
So who was it?
Someone capable of endangering the entire competition.
Everyone had been focused on reaching the summit quickly, their senses heightened by illusions. Even if someone attacked by accident, the choke’s suppression would inflict severe backlash if they used too much power. There was no reason.
“Asterios did take internal injuries, though.”
At that, Edwin’s brow twitched.
“It wasn’t him.”
“Confident, aren’t you?”
“You saw his condition—he could barely stand that morning.”
“True.”
That left only two suspects.
“So, the Holy Pontiff or Daniel?”
“What about the possibility that other contestants used the competition to kill?”
“You saw the heart ripped out. That was a sacrifice.”
Edwin narrowed his eyes at Mephisto’s words. Yes, that was it.
Someone had used a ritual resembling black magic. Not black magic exactly—but something close.
