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"What…?!"
Kokabiel stared blankly, utterly dumbfounded at the scene before him. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined his ultimate attack—condensing every last shred of his strength—could be effortlessly crushed with such casual ease.
The other party's attitude from beginning to end seemed to treat him like mere roadside trash.
His lips trembled twice before his expression twisted in a maddened rage.
"This… this can't be happening! Impossible! This plan… Impossible! Damn it—damn it!!"
???
The sudden mental breakdown stunned everyone present.
After all, this man was a cadre among fallen angels—someone who'd fought through the Great War against Gods and Devils alike, and still survived with overwhelming power nearly matching the Maou themselves.
But seeing him now… had he really just snapped like a brittle twig?
"Finished?" Bokue lazily dug his ear, clearly uninterested in hearing further barking.
His thoughts had always been straightforward, perhaps similar to a certain salaryman from Morioh Town who just happened to enjoy simple pleasures like beautiful hands.
He didn't possess grandiose aspirations to dominate the world, nor did he desire power or status. All he truly sought was an easy, comfortable life—nothing more.
Yet, there were always troublesome pests appearing out of nowhere, intent on stirring up chaos: people like Raynare previously, or a certain arrogant young Phenex.
Since they'd chosen to jump out and disturb his tranquil existence, Bokue had no obligation to let them off easily. If they wanted war, then war they'd get.
But whether or not they could handle the consequences—well, that was another matter entirely.
"Damn it, damn it! Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!!!"
Kokabiel, utterly lost to madness, began screaming incoherently.
"Damn you, Azazel! Why the hell aren't you showing up now?! As long as the war continues, victory will inevitably belong to us! The original Devils are dead! God himself is dead! If we reignite the flames of war, fallen angels will finally claim absolute victory!"
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
A furious shout, filled with disbelief and anger, sharply cut off Kokabiel's hysterics.
Turning back, everyone saw Xenovia, the blue-haired holy sword wielder, standing atop the crater's edge. Clad in a sleek black combat suit, she pointed the sword of Destruction downward, aiming directly at Kokabiel.
"Say that again, fallen angel. What did you just say about God?!"
"Oh?" Kokabiel, seemingly calmed by Xenovia's heated response, stopped his maniacal laughing. Slowly, cruelly, he turned his head to look upwards at the crowd of shocked faces, his lips twisting into a malevolent sneer.
"Ah, right… You lot probably didn't know yet, did you? If this news spreads among heaven's ranks, the resulting chaos would shake its very foundation. Your God—the biblical God—is the origin of all your faith. Imagine if news of his death were revealed—how many more angels would fall into despair? After all, Devils can elect new Maous, but your biblical God… well, he's one-of-a-kind. And as for the Underworld, no need to even mention it: those who desire to restart the Great War are abundant indeed—"
"SHUT UP!"
Xenovia harshly interrupted. She lowered her head slightly, blue bangs shielding half her face, casting a dark shadow upon her trembling form under the last crimson hues of twilight.
She didn't dare turn around to see her closest friend's current expression. Her once-proud grip on the holy sword of Destruction now shook uncontrollably.
"Are you saying… the truth?"
"Hahaha! Isn't that obvious? Why would I lie about something like this?!"
As if finally reclaiming a bit of twisted advantage, Kokabiel laughed loudly, dripping with mockery and sadistic pleasure.
"If you don't believe me, just ask Michael when you get back. He's one of the four Seraphs; surely he won't lie to his precious servants, right?"
Ah, so that's why…
Bokue suddenly understood.
He previously held disdain for this so-called biblical God, thinking of him as nothing but a glorified figurehead: Churches dedicated in his name abandoned, innocent believers betrayed. Now, it seemed he was mistaken. It wasn't that God was unwilling to act—it was simply that he couldn't.
Because he was already dead.
"Thanks for the valuable intel," Bokue said evenly. "Now, it's about time for you—"
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to hand him over to me," an unfamiliar voice calmly interrupted from the skies above.
"Hm?"
Looking up, Bokue saw a dazzling streak of blue-white radiance cutting across the darkening sky, tracing an impossibly swift yet precise trajectory before gently descending with a superhero-esque landing.
Though its descent was rapid, the actual moment of landing turned out unexpectedly gentle.
In fact, the newcomer's feet didn't even touch the ground; instead, they hovered gracefully about twenty centimeters above, crystal-like wings of white and blue light spread majestically behind him, scattering fragments of stars.
"And who might you be…?" Bokue asked flatly, eyeing the stranger with mild amusement.
Honestly, the newcomer's appearance was somewhat… eccentric.
Silver-white European knight armor, mixed strangely with a futuristic Gundam-esque aesthetic, created an odd sense of dissonance—like a mecha anime protagonist suddenly dropping into the wrong genre entirely.
"I am Vali," a youthful, clear voice resonated from beneath the knightly helm. "Known as the White Dragon Emperor, one of the Two Heavenly Dragons."
White Dragon Emperor? Well, that's one hell of a chunibyo title. Though it somehow rang vaguely familiar, Bokue mused.
Before Bokue could voice further thoughts, Vali spoke again.
"Now, kindly surrender that fallen angel. Azazel has specifically requested him."
"And what if I refuse?" Bokue instantly retorted without a shred of hesitation.
"Speaking of Azazel," he continued dismissively, "this guy kept mentioning him earlier too. Some coward who can't even show his face, hiding in the shadows—does he honestly think he can make demands of me?"
"…"
A heavy silence settled instantly. The air around them seemed frozen solid, the two standing motionless, eyes locked onto each other.
Meanwhile, Bokue's hand began radiating increasing golden spiritual pressure, gradually gnawing at Kokabiel's already battered body.
Suddenly, the crystalline wings behind "Vali" shimmered faintly, releasing a voice completely distinct from the one heard previously:
"Ignoring me, are you, Red one? Don't you have something to say?"
"Red one…?" Vali asked, puzzled, glancing back toward his wings. "Albion, are you certain it's him?"
Again, those luminous wings flashed slightly, resonating clearly.
"Ah… Yes, I'm sure it's the boy before you. I clearly sense Ddraig's presence within him. Though admittedly odd… Ddraig's aura feels strangely subdued—as if he's still… sleeping?"
Even the voice from the wings seemed uncertain toward the end.
"What…?" Vali sounded momentarily bewildered.
White Dragon Emperor… Ddraig… sleeping…
These scattered keywords suddenly triggered an older memory within Bokue's mind. After a brief moment of confusion, he closed his eyes, sighing softly and rubbing his forehead.
"Ah, that's right. Nearly forgot about you…"
After a pause, Bokue glanced casually at the back of his left hand.
"Alright. You can speak now."
Several seconds passed in silence. Suddenly, a round emerald glow slowly emerged from Bokue's left hand, accompanied by a heavy yawn.
"Haaaaahhh… Can anyone tell me… what exactly is going on here?"
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