"Agggggh! Dammit! Are you kidding me?! Is this even allowed?! Dammit all... what kind of massive warp ritual is this?!"
A lone young man shouted his frustrations to the world. He glared at the sky with pure resentment before collapsing into a sprawl on the grass, exhausted. Running a hand through his messy gold-and-black hair, he distorted his handsome—if somewhat ill-tempered—face, muttering curses at the master of the realm he had just tried to infiltrate.
He had spent hours struggling in the shadows, finally reaching his target floor, only to be hit with a forced teleportation without a single word of warning. The result? He'd been blown out to some remote corner of the human world with zero progress to show for it. That floor was supposed to be the inner sanctum, the home of the one who was both his master and his father figure. He had waited for the master to leave on business before sneaking in, and now he felt like weeping at the cruelty of it all.
"I just wanted to see that... you cheapskate..."
Staring at the empty plains, the young man thought back to the highest floor. This wasn't his first time there; when his "father" was home, he'd visited briefly with colleagues to deliver reports. He'd even volunteered for jobs near the top just to catch a glimpse of his goal. Even though he held a high-ranking position within the organization, that specific floor remained a mystery—even to his closest friend and rival.
That friend was the second-in-command, the leader's right hand. Yet even he didn't know the details. No... it was more that no one was permitted to know. His friend would simply say, "If it is the Lord's will," and never think of touching the taboo. In a sense, that was the right way to be. It was the young man who was the odd one out for trying to do exactly what his "father" had forbidden.
But he couldn't help it. His intellectual curiosity outweighed his fear. Call it a rebellious phase or just being honest with his desires, but he had schemed for ages to find an opening. He had finally stepped into the Seventh Heaven, ready to uncover the truth, only to be brought to tears by the perfect security system his master had left behind.
"...Hah. The Seventh Heaven. The dwelling of God. A place where only the 'System' that governs His miracles exists..."
"Indeed. And what exactly were you planning to do in such a place, Azazel?"
"Oh, you know, just check on the Sacred Gear 'System'... wait, gah! Michael?!"
The young man—Azazel—jolted upright, spinning around to find the source of the voice. A man with shoulder-length honey-blonde hair stood there, his usually gentle emerald eyes currently narrowed in a sharp glare. His mouth twitched with the effort of suppressed rage at his colleague's betrayal of their Lord.
Evidently, the Archangel had been alerted the moment an intruder entered the inner sanctum during God's absence. Seeing as he'd found Azazel immediately, the teleportation must have been marked. If the intruder had been a true enemy, this remote field in the human world would have been the perfect battlefield. Realizing he was in deep trouble, Azazel started babbling excuses.
"Wait, wait! It's not what it looks like! I just... I had a little business there!"
"While the Lord is away?"
"Y-Yeah! I just wanted to make sure the System was functioning correctly in His absence. You know me, I'm a devout angel!"
"How remarkable... for Azazel to serve the Lord so diligently. I suppose I should prepare for Armageddon to begin tomorrow?"
"Hey! That's low!"
Azazel winced at the heavy sarcasm. He did do his job! Usually. But given the circumstances, he decided not to snap back. Michael sighed, his expression shifting from anger to pure exasperation. He still wore a smile, but the silent pressure radiating from him was heavy.
Michael was the kind of person who showed mercy to all... except Azazel. He knew that a gentle smile wasn't enough to stop this man; give him an inch, and he'd take a mile. The only reason Azazel hadn't been severely punished yet was because he was genuinely competent and knew exactly how to talk his way out of trouble.
The two had been together since they first gained self-awareness—a long, complicated friendship of constant cleanup duty. Azazel was high-ranking and possessed a technical brilliance rare among angels, which made him hard for others to handle. Michael was essentially the only one capable of keeping him in check.
"Really... if you keep this up, you might actually fall one of these days."
"Don't worry. If I'm going to fall, it'll be after I get a feel of Gabriel's divine breasts."
"There is nothing 'worry-free' about that statement."
"Come on, Michael! Gabriel is the greatest beauty in Heaven! Are you even a man if you aren't curious about those blessings?! Are you even human?!"
"I am an Angel! And stop flickering your wings while you say that. I am officially invoking my authority as Archangel to ban you from contacting Gabriel."
"Abuse of power!"
"Legitimate exercise of authority," Michael stated flatly, rubbing his temples. He wondered, for the millionth time, why he put up with this man.
He knew Azazel's heart wasn't truly malicious; it was just driven by insatiable curiosity. But as the acting Proxy of God, Michael desperately wished his biggest job wasn't constantly reforming a problem child.
"Later, you will receive a lecture, a written apology, and a double workload."
"Am I a kid? Tsk. Fine. It's not like I learned anything anyway after that warp miracle hit me."
"Show some remorse. Sneaking into the Seventh Heaven without permission usually results in being erased from existence, not just a teleportation. Even I, the Archangel, am forbidden from stepping into that sanctuary."
Heaven was composed of seven layers. From the first floor where most angels worked, up to the Third Heaven (Paradise), the Fourth Heaven (Eden), and the Sixth Heaven, Zebul, where the Seraphim dwelt. The Seventh Heaven was the core—the dwelling of God and the resting place of the "System," the pinnacle of divine wisdom.
Azazel nodded inwardly. He knew the master's traps weren't meant to kill him. Perhaps only a Seraph could have stumbled in by accident, but even after eons of service, Azazel couldn't read the Lord's true intent.
Still, if the traps weren't lethal, maybe—given enough time—he could analyze the warp ritual and force his way through to the System. It was a slim hope. But it made him wonder: Why leave that possibility open?
"Are you really okay with that, 'Proxy of God'?" Azazel asked, looking up. "Even the Archangel can't get near the System that governs miracles. If you're just a 'good boy' who follows orders, what happens if things go wrong?"
"...It is because I hold the authority of the Proxy that I must never forget the Lord's will. Interfering with the System is a taboo beyond my station."
Michael led the Seraphim, and while he had the power to act in God's stead, his faith was absolute. He would never dream of the radical interference Azazel was suggesting. Azazel sighed and looked at the sky. He was up against the greatest program ever written by the Creator Himself. A young amateur like him didn't stand a chance.
"Hey, Michael. What is the 'System,' really?"
"It is the mechanism created by our Lord to govern the miracles of this world."
"I know that. But in a way, that's all we know, isn't it?"
Michael went silent, looking at his friend's weary smile. Then, a thought occurred to him.
"...There is one more thing."
"Oh? First I've heard of it. What is it?"
"We angels were created by the Lord to be His hands and feet. That is our function—our work."
"Yeah, I guess so. Makes us sound like a 'system' too, in a way."
"I serve by my own will and love for the Lord, of course. But the two are similar, aren't they? Perhaps the System is simply our brother, sharing our parent and our purpose."
A program created by God, and a messenger created by God. The only difference was a physical body and emotions. Azazel couldn't say if the System had a will of its own, but the idea gave him a strange sense of kinship.
"Kuku... hahaha! Brothers, huh? In that case, I wonder who's older—us or the System?"
"Hmm, that is a difficult question. If the System is the elder, I must show it proper respect."
"How do you even show 'respect' to a System...?"
Azazel muttered at his friend's earnestness. Michael then began to recite a passage from the Bible, summoning a massive, white double door to lead them back to Heaven.
"Now then, you've had a nice rest. It's time for some 'fun' work," Michael said, grabbing Azazel by the collar.
The other angels simply watched as the Archangel dragged the troublemaker back home. "Ah, again?" they sighed, and went back to their business. Azazel, buried under a mountain of punitive paperwork, made a silent vow: One day, I'm running away from home! The man who would one day be the Governor of the Fallen Angels was, as always, a headache for the sane.
+++
"Hey, Michael. In this world where God is dead and time keeps ticking... are you still the same as you were back then?"
Azazel woke from a short nap, ruminating on the dream. It was a memory from long ago, before the Fall. He'd tried to analyze the System during God's absence and failed miserably. Even now, he didn't think he could crack the Lord's "God-tier" security. The Lord really didn't want anyone touching the System.
"Still, he's a softy at heart. He must have noticed the System's glitches. He's probably trying to fix the way prayers are processed on his own... though given the state of the world, they're probably at their wit's end."
Michael had always been blunt but meddling. Azazel trusted him in a different way than he trusted Shemhaza or Barakiel. He remembered being dragged back to work, being hit with spears of light for trying to teach angels about the human world, and being bombarded with holy rays when his experiments caused local property damage.
"Wait... was his lethality actually higher than God's?" Azazel wondered, feeling a surge of indignation. Michael had never held back.
Regardless, the world was fraying. The Devils had lost their Kings, the Angels their Lord, and the Fallen many of their leaders. The glitches in the System were creating ripples everywhere, and every faction was desperately trying to maintain the appearance of order.
"Devils, Fallen, and Angels... none of us have the strength left for war. If we keep dallying, the other mythologies—especially that old skeleton who hates us—will make their move. Michael has to know that."
That was why Azazel wanted peace. He had called for a retreat during the Great War because he knew that if they lost any more men, they wouldn't even be able to deter the other gods.
The biggest hurdle had been the Devils. The Old Satan faction was incredibly bellicose, and while a new government had taken over, Azazel hadn't known if he could negotiate with them. That was, until his student caused a massive uproar that laid their true intentions bare.
"Saving Masaomi Yae-gaki and Clearia Belial showed me that the Devils also want peace. That kid really pulled it off."
Souma Kuramoto's "Great Storm" had revealed the Underworld's hand. He'd even manipulated the Emperor into silencing the Old Satan hardliners. Through Souma, Azazel had even managed to gauge Ajuka Beelzebub's true personality. While they had different research methods, their casual attitude suggested they'd get along.
Now, all that remained was to arrange a meeting between the leaders of the Three Factions. It wouldn't be easy, but it was progress. For six months, Azazel had been preparing.
He was proud of Souma—a student with a fascinating Gear and even better ideas. But the recent medical results had given him a migraine. If the worst happened, his stomach would be in shreds. He pulled up the data on the Red Crimson Spear of Ruin.
"Kanata's Gear was a mass-produced type. It bugged out for some reason and gained conceptual powers. And Ajuka reported that its manifestation was likely triggered by an 'external factor.'"
Azazel had kept one detail from Souma. He had a strong suspicion about what had triggered the Gear's awakening. He'd found the trace in the aura's residue—the shadow of a specific Longinus.
"Abnormals attract abnormals. Was it you who 'fixed' his ability and pushed it into the conceptual realm? Canis Lycaon, the Dog God of the Black Blade."
The Dog God. A Longinus capable of cutting even concepts. Azazel had mentioned the name to Souma a few days ago, but the boy had shown no recognition. They likely had no idea they'd met, but Azazel knew that in the Ryoku area where Souma lived, there was a boy who harbored that God-slaying dog.
Four years ago, Azazel had seen that boy. His power was perfectly sealed with a warmth that could only be called "family love." Azazel had chosen to let the sleeping dog lie, keeping an eye on him from a distance to protect his peace.
But apparently, five years before that seal was placed, a chance encounter with Souma had awakened Souma's Gear. The factor of "Conceptual Cutting" from the Dog God had likely mixed with Souma's spear, birthing "Conceptual Deletion."
It was a chain reaction. The Dog God's aura had pushed the spear to bug out, and that glitch had reached all the way to the System. That was likely the moment the "Voice" first noticed Souma.
Azazel decided to keep this a secret. If Souma met the host of the Dog God, he wouldn't drag a kid who wanted a normal life into the supernatural world. And the boy with the Dog God was perfectly sealed. It was better to leave it be.
The real problem was the "Vessel" comment. The only being capable of tampering with the System's structure was the Creator Himself.
"Is it really you...? The God of the Bible?"
But his instinct said no. He wouldn't mistake his own father, even through a Gear. God had died in the war; the sense of loss Azazel felt was too deep to be a lie.
Furthermore, the "motherly" overprotectiveness Souma described didn't fit the God Azazel knew. Would the Creator really become a "mom" for a single human boy who treated His divine weapons like kitchen utensils? The idea that the Gear would tolerate being used as a convenience tool was "God-tier" in its own right, but it was a power that could ruin a man if he became too reliant on it.
"A power like God's, but not God... Once Kanata reaches Balance Breaker, we'll have our answer. But it's too dangerous to rush. If the Heaven faction finds out there's a link to the Lord, they won't stay quiet."
There were only three known "Relic" class Longinus: the True Longinus, the Sephiroth Graal, and the Incinerate Anthem. The Church was obsessed with them. Currently, they only had the Zenith Tempest.
If the Church found out about Souma, they would try to negotiate with the Grey Wizards for his custody. Mephisto wouldn't give up his star pupil, but the Church wouldn't take no for an answer. It would be a disaster.
Azazel decided to hold off on pushing Souma toward Balance Breaker until the peace treaty was signed. Souma wasn't obsessed with power anyway; he'd be fine waiting. If they could keep the Heaven faction in the dark, they could manage.
"I'll have to keep an eye on him," Azazel sighed, taking a pill for his stomach. "The biggest variable is Kanata himself. If something happens that makes him decide to act for 'someone else's sake,' he won't stop. He'll drag the Devils, the Fallen, and the Church into his mess with 100% good intentions and the logic of a devil. He's a nightmare."
He prepared some coffee to start his night's work. He'd just fended off Souma's suggestion of "using Sacred Gears for chores as part of training" with a flick to the forehead.
"The era of the old ways is ending. I have to build a world for those who come after me. If we spend all our time complaining about the dead God and the dead Satan, we're failing our duty."
He closed his eyes, listening to the faint turning of the gears of fate. He hoped the Lord wouldn't involve an innocent child in their mess.
***
Side Story:
Chapter 39: The Magic of Love, Courage, and Hope (Physical)
The battle between the Vortex Bunch and the Merry Friends of Kuoh had begun. It was a clash of middle-aged men's fists, fueled by "love, courage, and hope." The blood and sweat flying through the air made one wonder where the "Magical Girl" elements had gone.
In one corner, a group of girls cornered a group of suited men.
"Hehe... we've finally got you!"
"You're causing trouble in the town my Papa protected! I'm going to 'Amen' you in his place!"
"Uh, Kiryu? That sounds like a villain line. And Irina? 'Amen' isn't a move name," Issei muttered.
Aika Kiryu, the glasses-wearing strategist, and Irina Shido, the chestnut-haired "Magical Girl," stood before the terrified members of the evil organization. Issei wondered how his life had become this chaotic thirty times a day, but he still didn't have an answer.
"Kiryu-sensei! The perimeter is secure!" shouted Ruruko Nimura, a high-energy kindergartner who was essentially Irina 2.0. She treated the whole thing like a high-stakes game of pretend.
"Where's Yura?" Issei asked, noticing the blue-haired Tsubasa Yura was missing.
"She's in a fistfight with the smoke monster, 'Cloudy-rin'!"
Issei's eyes went dead. Tsubasa had been able to see spirits since she was a kid and had trained in martial arts to protect herself. She was the "Vanguard Captain" of the Young Girl Brigade.
"Why is this little girl punching a cloud monster with her bare hands?!" the enemies screamed in the distance.
The suited men of the Vortex Bunch trembled. "I can't believe the Young Girl Brigade is this terrifying..."
"Wait," Issei said. "You guys haven't actually attacked us. You just make weird poses and send out strange machines."
"We can't hurt children!" the men shouted.
"They're actually good people?!" Issei cried.
The Vortex Bunch had a code: they could scare children, but hurting them or causing trauma was strictly forbidden.
"Just surrender, guys," Issei pleaded. "Before Kiryu uses her 'Scouter' and Irina 'Amens' you."
"...Why do I know what those mean?" Issei sobbed to himself. Kiryu's "Scouter" was a terrifying skill that "measured the numerical value of a man's pride" (his junk), allowing her to find their weak points instantly.
Suddenly, a tremor shook the ground.
"OH HO HO HO! Greetings, evil organization! I, the lady of the noble Abe family, and my partner Christie, welcome you!"
"HO-KYOOOOOOO!"
A beautiful girl appeared, sitting on the shoulders of a massive white gorilla.
"Abe-senpai! Please take that gorilla back to the zoo immediately!" Issei screamed.
"Now, Hyoudou-kun. Christie is a beautiful Snow Woman from the north. She's part of the family!" Kiyome Abe, the oldest member and the brigade's financier, tossed her chestnut curls. She came from a family of monster tamers and was the only one who actually knew about the supernatural.
She kept the truth from her friends to protect their peace, treating it all as an elaborate festival. Of course, her family's private security was operating in the shadows to make sure no real harm came to the girls.
The gorilla, Christie, beat its chest with a roar that shook the air. The Vortex Bunch men were now physically crying.
"Look, Issei-kun! Our new member Christie-san just raised our attack power!" Irina cheered.
"Our attack power was already too high! This is overkill!"
"Hehe... the perfect formation. Now, with my Scouter, we launch a total assault!" Kiryu declared.
"Wait, Kiryu! Stop the gori—I mean, Christie-san! If she hits their vitals with that strength, it's over! They're already weeping! Stop it!" Issei begged for the sake of the villains' lives.
The men surrendered instantly. "To defeat an enemy with words alone... truly, you are a master, Hyoudou-kun," they praised. Issei had reached a new truth: Girls are terrifying.
***
10 Advanced Chapters Available on my Patreon!
https://patreon.com/Well_being