George III noticed the shift in his ancestor's expression and asked, low, "What's wrong?"
William Augustus I tossed the letter to George III, and the King of Loen's own expression shifted the moment he read it — because the ritual to ascend to Black Emperor required far more than simply building a tomb.
It also required tying his own name inseparably to the title of "Emperor" in the public's collective consciousness, and establishing an intricate, tightly woven set of rules that ran contrary to how things normally worked.
If the palace itself had fallen, been destroyed — the image George III had spent years painstakingly building would take a devastating hit.
"Damn it!"
George III had, of course, already thought of Derek Augustus, resentment boiling in his chest toward this royal "elder." We're out here risking our lives against a Sequence 1 Grand Angel, and all we asked you to do was hold Backlund against a few demigods — and you still managed to screw it up?
Useless. Might as well hand over the Beyonder Characteristic and raise myself a proper Balancer from scratch.
But what was done was done — there was no point dwelling on it now. He took a deep breath and turned to Adam. "Sir, would you lend us your strength?"
Adam held his gaze silently for a few seconds, then suddenly turned his head toward one direction, saying flatly, "Trouble's coming."
"What?"
Abruptly, where Adam's gaze had fixed, a flicker of light and shadow resolved into a figure — clad in a simple, plain linen robe, long silver hair trailing down.
It was a man, features soft, handsome, his eyes gentle yet touched with a faint indifference, as though watching fate itself unfold from a distance — watching everyone present as mere bystanders to it.
Behind him, layer upon layer of illusory light coalesced into pristine wings, spreading outward.
"Adam."
The man's voice, as he looked at Adam, carried no rise or fall at all — as flat as reciting a line.
Adam gave a slight nod. "It's been a long time, Ouroboros."
William Augustus I, the other Angel present, also recognized this Angel of Fate on sight. As a former "colleague" who'd once served the Solomon Empire alongside him, he actually knew fairly little about this Grand Angel of the Fate Pathway.
Because compared to the rest of them — Angels with ambition, ideas, goals... humanity — Ouroboros's divinity clearly far outweighed anything human in him. Most of the time, he preferred to be alone, to paint, to simply sit and stare into space.
The only reason he'd ever "served" the Solomon Empire was his faith in the True Creator — the only thing he'd ever truly served was his Lord.
And ever since the True Creator had been driven out to the god-forsaken land by the Seven Gods, Ouroboros had, naturally, followed. All told, it had been thousands of years since they'd last seen each other.
So why had he suddenly shown up here?
Sure, Loen's royal family was cooperating with the Aurora Order to hold the True Creator's descent ritual this time — but they had absolutely no intention of letting the True Creator actually descend. Could the True Creator have somehow figured that out, and sent Ouroboros specifically to make trouble for them?
"Hm?"
Anxious as he was, William Augustus I suddenly noticed that Ouroboros, after "greeting" Adam, made no further move at all — instead, his attention drifted elsewhere, as if he were waiting for something.
A moment later, a rift tore through the space nearby, and Vincent leapt out of the Spirit World. Glancing back hurriedly, he caught the tail end of Little Miss Christmas Tree Renet's entrance — the moment she'd cursed Derek Augustus into a dachshund with a sneak attack.
"Beautifully done!"
Better to be well-timed than early, as they say.
Thank goodness for my own foresight — got everything set up in advance, made sure Renet was on board. Otherwise I'd really be dead right now!
Vincent felt himself relax. The Great Fog problem was resolved now — time to go check on how Klein was doing at Red Rose Manor.
"Vincent."
Bernadette's voice cut in, carrying a gravity he'd never heard from her before. "Never mind Klein for now."
"What's wrong?"
Vincent froze, and the spirituality within him began pulsing with a delayed, dawning sense of alarm.
He whipped around, and found himself facing six pairs of eyes.
Six people, each wearing a different expression — calm, startled, confused, thoughtful, indifferent.
"That's... Adam."
Vincent recognized Adam at once, in his priest's robe, holding his cross. Putting that together with where the six of them stood, and the standoff between them, it wasn't hard to guess: the remaining five were almost certainly Beyonders on the same level as Adam.
In other words, all six people standing before him were Sequence 1 Grand Angels.
Which meant the man in formal dress, sporting a thin mustache, his face a perfect match for the one on Loen's coinage, had to be the man he and Bernadette considered their greatest enemy — George III?
He never would have guessed they'd end up meeting like this.
Good news: the Beyonder Characteristic gathering effect really had summoned a "Black Emperor" his way.
Bad news: it wasn't the Black Emperor Bernadette actually wanted.
Didn't I already pray to the great serpent? Even if it couldn't come help, the least it could do was throw me a bit of luck! I just got clear of one Sequence 2, and now I turn a corner and run straight into six Sequence 1s — is the universe just trying to get me killed?
"BOOM!"
Suddenly, a terrifying presence swept in from the direction of Backlund — not overwhelmingly powerful, but strong enough to visibly unsettle every Angel present.
This was the presence of a god!
George III's eyes narrowed sharply. He turned to his ancestor, William Augustus I, both their faces filled with disbelief: Has the Church really just let the Aurora Order bring the True Creator down onto Backlund?!
Damn that Derek — what a useless wreck!
Both their expressions turned grim in an instant. If the True Creator really did complete its descent, a divine war was all but guaranteed to follow.
The True Creator wasn't one of the Seven Gods — it wasn't even on par with some evil gods. It was a being of pure, total madness, utterly indifferent to how much devastation a divine war might wreak on the world.
The two Angels from Castia and Tamara, on the other hand, looked delighted at the news — clearly thrilled at the prospect. The two of them reached an understanding in an instant: do everything possible to stop George III and William Augustus I from returning to Backlund.
Adam lowered his eyes slightly, fingers brushing against the silver cross at his chest.
Ouroboros, as if noticing nothing at all, flickered and appeared directly in front of Vincent. "Was it you praying to me?"
Vincent froze for a moment before it clicked. "Your Excellency, the Angel of Fate?"
The great serpent actually came in person? That's... a serious show of respect.
"Yes."
Ouroboros nodded. "What do you need from me?"
Vincent said quickly, "Get me out of here — somewhere safe."
"All right."
He seemed remarkably stingy with words, offering nothing further as he took hold of Vincent's arm, his wings behind him giving a light flap, ready to leave immediately.
The other five present simply watched, making no move to stop them.
None of them wanted to casually make an enemy of something even Adam himself had called "trouble."
"Woof!"
A dog's bark suddenly rang out, and a dachshund shot out of the Spirit World, shaking its head as its body rapidly stretched and reformed back into Derek Augustus.
William Augustus I said, cold, "Derek, why are you here?! Didn't I tell you to hold off the Castia and Tamara demigods, and keep an eye on the Aurora Order and the Witch cult?"
Derek took a deep breath, and said, in a voice only his ancestor and George III could hear, "That man — he's very likely connected to the Nation of Disorder."
To be continued…
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